#i am a water sign though so OF COURSE words move me to tears

[kissmypoets-hp]

drarry fan discovers gallaplacidia's body of work for the first time in the year 2024

every time i start a new gallaplacidia fic i need to mentally prepare myself for the ANGST JOURNEY i am about to embark on.... i only got into reading drarry fics extensively this year, so i never got to witness her posting in real-time. i often come in completely blind since i'm not seeing her fics on AO3 — i mean, i do see the fic blurbs when i add book covers on Calibre, yes, but i downloaded all her complete works from google drive and don't really know what to expect... and yet. i am blown away every single time!!!

this gets pretty long (i accidentally Realize she follows some kdrama formulas) so i'll keep the rest under the cut haha

she is so adept at portraying grief, trauma, and unhealthy coping mechanisms in young people, and i always end up crying actual tears???? now that i am typing this out, she writes a lot like how k-drama writers do: she has mastered the art of emotional whiplash — a lovable cast, a kind of sincerity-sadness-and-a a love that saves us somehow, the DRAMA etc — and i eat it up every single time 🍽️ how am i crying then laughing then absolutely devastated then Okay Again Because Despite The Grief We Have Each Other... you know??!! very much girl who is "going to be okay" realness...

i cannot believe i accidentally made sense, but: ms. gallaplacidia also follows the k-drama formula of

a ragtag cast alongside The Main Couple (bonus points if there is a cute child somewhere)

multiple storylines that elicit different emotions from the readers and All Come Together Somehow (to make me cry)

the ending involves neatly wrapping up plot points — even her fics with more open endings feel more definite because something has Shifted. her characters have changed and grown into themselves throughout the story, and while we don't know what happens next there is a promise of something new... AND..... i am absolutely tickled as i type but...

a poor, down and out but hardworking/earnest character (draco) falls for a surly, rich, handsome character with a lack of social skills (harry...!!!!!).... i can't believe i only connected the dots now but. it's the classic k-drama trope!!! it's there. it's soooo there!! this literally happened to our pal draco malfoy. i am absolutely delighted if you couldn't tell.... to quote bell hooks, only a crazy person doesn't want to be rescued!!! a lot of times draco wants to be saved so bad, and harry always wants to feel needed (very true to canon). it's such a magnetic dynamic that always pulls me in....

anyway i've just started Code Name L this week... oh brother. we are so back (it is so over).

forgive me for rambling!!! i don't really know who to talk to about these fics so ALL OF YOU will be subjected to my Posting (EVIL LAUGHTER).... but i am truly so floored to read her works for free and i will def hunt down a copy of her published novel when i have the time and budget.... i love the internet

[indelibleevidence]

Broken Wings, chapter 5

Author's Note: Also on FFN and AO3. Slight delay this week, since yesterday I was having a chronic illness brain-scramble. Next week should be the final chapter (of this fic, anyway - I still have the final one to write the synopsis for).

*

The bathroom was the only place with a lock she could retreat to, so Remi decided to take a shower, needing to gather her thoughts. The part of her that had once been Jane yearned to sob against Kurt’s chest, and she didn’t dare to indulge it. Instead, she let the water and steam cradle her, her arms wrapped around herself for good measure.

I just wanted it all to stop, but I’m trapped here, in this life I don’t know how to live. He wants me to stay, so why can’t I just give in? Why can’t I just take what he’s offering?

What the fuck is wrong with me? Am I going to keep hurting him until he finally leaves? So there’s nothing stopping me from eating a bullet? Am I really that broken?

The pressure in her chest crept up her throat, and a sob jarred her body. Remi shook her head, locked her jaw, tried to swallow the agony back down inside, but the effort was futile. The harder she tried to suppress the sobs, the more powerful they became. Her resistance broke, and she leaned against the cold tiles, muffling the sound of her weeping with her hands over her face.

You’re pathetic. As always, the voice mentally admonishing her sounded like Shepherd’s.

You’re the strongest person I know. Of course you want to rest. Kurt’s remembered words should have barely touched the raw wound in her soul—but somehow, they meant more than Shepherd’s. Not enough to heal her completely, but enough that her diaphragm loosened enough to allow her a full breath, then another. From there, she could regain her footing and pick up a washcloth, soaking and then violently wringing it out, over and over, watching the fabric bunch and twist, but never tear.

When her tears subsided, the repetitive movement enough of a distraction to shift the emotional storm to her horizon, she returned to the numbed state she’d been relying on in order to function. She moved mechanically through the motions of washing her hair and body, comforted by the  familiar scents of Kurt’s shampoo and shower gel. Her thoughts, for now, were blessedly silent.

After she’d dried off and dressed, she unbolted the bathroom door, apprehension forcing tension into her abdomen. Had Kurt heard her crying? And if he said something about it, would she be able to keep herself from snarling at him—or worse, breaking down again?

He wasn’t in the bedroom anymore, so maybe he’d been too far from the bathroom to hear anything.

She followed the scent of frying onions to locate him in the kitchen, which didn’t surprise her. When he was stressed at work, Kurt went to the gym. When he was stressed at home, he cooked.

“Anything I can do to help?” she asked, leaning on the breakfast bar.

When he turned, his eyes were a little red and watery, as though he’d heard her crying, and cried right along with her. The image swept a wave of guilt through her.

On the other hand, he’d been chopping onions. She couldn’t assume anything, though she had her suspicions.

“I’m good,” Kurt said, giving no sign that he’d noticed anything amiss with her own eyes. ���Did you eat while you were out?”

She shook her head. “No. Unless coffee counts.”

Kurt turned down the heat on the stove, then came to her side, leaning in for a brief, affectionate kiss. It was all so domestic and familiar that a lump formed in her throat, and she rested her head on his shoulder to hide her shaken composure.

He nuzzled her temple, then returned to the stove, his back to her. “In that case, dinner’s in fifteen minutes.”

Remi retreated to the couch, pretending to browse something on her phone as she tried to process the longing she felt for Jane’s old life. Was it just the emotional exhaustion of the day’s events that had her this sentimental? Or did she actually miss living here on a permanent basis?

Missing a person was different from missing a whole phase of your life.

She turned over the problem in her head until Kurt called her over to eat, but found no clear answers.

After the meal, when they were settled with glasses of wine on the couch, Kurt said, “You don’t have to let it go.”

Taken aback, she frowned over at him. “What?”

Kurt gave her a hint of a smile. “Earlier, you said Jane could let her past go, and be a better person because she didn’t have that baggage. But you can still find meaning in your life, and you don’t have to let go of anything you don’t want to. I didn’t.”

Remi frowned. “You didn’t…what?”

“Come on. You know how stubborn I am. I searched for Taylor for twenty-five years. If you hadn’t come to Venice on our anniversary, I would have searched for you until the day I died. Letting things go isn’t in my DNA.”

“You let go of your grudge against Jane,” Remi pointed out. “You didn’t want to be in the same room as her, after you found out about me.”

“That’s different. I was angry. And I…” He sighed, his gaze dropping from hers for a moment. “I wasn’t telling the whole truth when I said that. I didn’t want to be around her because I was scared of how much I did want to be around her, even knowing how she’d lied to us. None of my feelings made sense. All of it was tangled up with stuff about my dad, and Taylor, and Allie and the baby… It took me months to sort everything out in my head.”

Did he know how close he was to her own feelings about him? Or was this just a coincidence? His words felt too accurate for comfort.

“But you did sort it out. I don’t know if I have that in me.”

“You don’t have to do it alone.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to deflect the earnest sentiment before it made her burst into tears again. What was wrong with her? “In the end, alone is all we are.”

As if he sensed that if he pushed, she’d push back ten times harder, he changed tack. “The way I see it, you have four options. You can kill yourself.”

Remi couldn’t help but flinch at his bluntness. Stupid, when she’d considered far more detailed scenarios within the privacy of her own mind—but hearing him say it was almost a violation.

Kurt continued listing, counting the options off with his fingers. “You can find more ZIP and inject yourself, without my consent. You can try to keep on living the way you have been, even though it’s not making you happy. Or…you can try something different.”

He stopped, as though he expected her to say something, but she had no coherent thoughts to shape into words. She just waited, uncharacteristically passive, sipping her wine. It was obvious where he was going, and she should cut him off before he got there, but the words died somewhere between her mind and her lips.

Even the critical part of her psyche, the one that always sounded like Shepherd, was silent. Remi was too exhausted even to hate herself right now.

“I want you to come home,” Kurt said softly, taking her hand. “I miss you when you’re gone.”

“And I miss you,” she admitted. “But moving back in here isn’t trying something new.”

He laced his fingers through hers, the gesture casual, yet intimate. “It’s different this time. I’ll know that you’re you, and you don’t have to hide any part of yourself. That’s new enough.”

He was making sense, but fear made her cautious. “I’ll drive you crazy.”

“You’re telling me the next year is gonna be harder than the one we’ve just had?” he teased gently. “’Cause I’m all out of ammo, and I’m pretty sure you are, too.”

Remi stared at him, speechless. She’d never thought about it that way, but…he was right. He didn’t know every awful thing she’d done—and with the Orion secrets, she’d endanger him if she ever told him. But she wasn’t hiding herself anymore. He knew the worst parts of her, what she was capable of, and he’d already forgiven her.

She shook her head, unable to help but smile a little. “You’re actually right about that.”

Kurt’s expression grew just a little warmer, more affectionate, and the last of her resistance slipped away. She was so tired, and his body heat was so comforting against her side. She was far from confident that they could make this work, but without the option of ZIP…

“Okay. If you’re sure… We can try.”

Loving relief emanated from him, echoing her own tidal wave of emotion. “Trying is all I ask. Thank you.”

I’m the one who should be thanking you. God, I hope we don’t regret this.

If she kept dwelling on that fear—or the gratitude and relief on the other side of her emotional coin—it would consume her. She had to think practically, or she’d become a wreck again, and this time, it would be in front of Kurt. At least she could come up with her next short-term goal now.

Remi sighed, knowing she was about to disappoint her husband again. “I need to head back to Europe, first. Get things sorted there. It’ll probably take a week or two, depending on when I can reach certain people.”

Kurt’s expression clouded with concern, a spark of fear in his eyes. “You can’t do it by phone?”

“Remember when Jane came back with huge stacks of cash? That’s how K&R pays, if you’re trying to stay under the radar.” She hadn’t been hiding herself since she’d given Kurt her second burner phone number in Vancouver, but hadn’t bothered to switch to digital pay—just in case. “Most of my money is stashed away, and there’s no one out there I trust to get it for me and put it in the bank. Plus my apartment needs to be cleared out, my rent paid up. There are a few weapons I’m, uh, breaking a few laws by owning…”

“Then let me come with you.”

As much as Remi loved him, something deep within her protested at the thought of Kurt going back with her. Even though it was only two weeks, she needed that time, that solitude. She needed to process everything that had just happened, and come to terms with her new future—as hazy as the details were, so far.

She shook her head. “I know I haven’t been the most trustworthy wife. But you have to know by now that when I say I’ll come back, I will.”

Kurt was silent, but she could see the thoughts as clearly as he’d spoken them. That was before. But now, if you want to die...

“I’m trusting that you want me here—in your home, in your life,” she pointed out quietly. “If you know me at all, you know that’s a huge leap of faith I’m making. Now I need one from you, too. I’ll be back, within a couple of weeks.”

“No more risky jobs?”

She held his gaze. “No jobs at all while I’m out there. I haven’t got anything booked, and I don’t need the money, so I’m done with K and R.”

Kurt hesitated, then gave a tiny nod. “It scares the hell out of me, but…okay. If that’s what you need to do.”

Impulsively, she kissed him—then remembered the numerous times she’d rewarded his naïveté with a kiss after duping him, when she’d been pretending to be Jane . Not this time. I swear.

“Thank you. I know I’m asking a lot, but…” She shrugged. “Old habits.”

Kurt nodded. “I’ve waited this long—I can wait a little while longer.”

He was being so sweet and understanding that it just made her more ashamed of her instincts to push him away. She’d meant it earlier, when she’d said he deserved better. She was a damaged mess, and she’d been torturing his heart for too long. If a brand new Jane wasn’t what he wanted—if it was Remi he wanted—then she had to start treating this like it was serious. Like it was the long-term arrangement Jane had committed to in her marriage vows.

Remi kissed him again, just because she could. Because he was somehow, against all the odds, hers. “I just want you to know that even though I hated you knowing so much at first, I’m glad Jane took that choice away from me. Without you, I…”

Her words trailed away as she struggled to find a way to express herself. Kurt let the silence linger for a moment, giving her the opportunity to finish the thought, but then pulled her more snugly against him, kissing the top of her head. “I know. Me too.”

Remi sighed, savouring the warmth of his presence. She knew tomorrow would bring new doubts, new regrets, new self-loathing—but for tonight, she’d impose a ceasefire on the worst of the war inside her head.

[marsbutterfly]

bert, eren, levi and armin getting bjs for the first time please i am begging

Headcanon: Eren, Levi, Bertholdt and Armin receiving head for the first time

Warnings: nsfw, oral sex male receiving, cu* shots

- Ever since you started dating Eren, you’ve been doing hand stuff but you can tell he wants more, even though he doesn’t specifically ask for it.

- One day during his after training shower, you notice all the other boys have already made their way towards the dining hall and you decide to sneak in.

- You try to be as quiet as possible and suddenly you begin to hear whispers coming from the last stall.

- One of his hands is on the wall as he tries to balance himself while the other he uses to jerk himself off. You feel wetness forming in between your legs so you decide to take your clothes off and join him.

- Hearing his breathless moans as he calls for your name is one of your favorite things to do.

- You hug him from behind and he gasps, not expecting anyone to be there. You don’t say anything and he turns to face you, his cheeks are as red as apples and you smile at him.

- Without saying anything you fall to your knees, placing your mouth around his cock. In reality you are not quite sure what to do but decide to give it a go anyway.

- He’s not too far from his breaking point but feeling your tongue around the tip of his dick was almost enough to drive him over the edge but he tries very hard to pull himself together for a bit longer.

- His hand rests on your chin, propping it up so he can look at your eyes while you have his cock in your mouth.

- Once you take half of his length in, he can’t hold himself back anymore and ends up coming down your throat not giving you the chance to swallow.

- “I’m so sorry!!” He says, multiple times. “I didn’t mean to come so fast!”

- “It’s ok!” You reply with a devious smile, “Maybe we can do it again later.”

- It isn’t your first time giving head but it is his first time receiving.

- For years, he has always focused on making his partner feel good instead of allowing them to pleasure him but at some point you were able to convince him.

- Trying to make the atmosphere more romantic, he lights up a few candles and places a few cups of water by the bed alongside some bread and cheese for a late night snack.

- You walk into his room and your first instinct is to burst into laughter but you manage to hold it back when you notice his hard cock already out as he lies on the bed.

- Excitedly, you walk towards him. You take his dick in your hand and give it a few dry strokes before you begin to lick it. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he forgets how to breathe for a second.

- His cock isn’t long but it makes up for it in thickness. You can clearly see his veins with the flicker of the flames.

- He can’t quite form words so he simply groans every time you take him in. Of course, you never stop jerking him off which simply makes it 15x better for him and it reaches a point of overstimulation.

- You ask if he’s ok and he nods, a smirk on the corner of his lips. You take him back in your mouth, full lenght and you can feel as he touches the back of your throat. A few tears streaming down your face.

- “Are you alright?” He asks, his thumb brushing against your face.

- “I’m fine.” You respond as you feel his cock beginning to twitch against your touch.

- You lick the tip a few more times while moving your hand up and down and soon the white ropes of his cum shoot all over your face. He hands you a tissue, helping you clean yourself up before inviting you to sit on his face.

- You’ve been dating Bert for a few months now and you want to make him feel special but you know he’s too embarrassed to ask for it.

- Recently, he’s been having sex dreams about you and waking up with the hardest boner of all time.

- If not a boner, then he’s covered in his own cum.

- One night as he sleeps in the boys room, you sneak in through a window silently in an attempt to not disturb anyone else other than your boyfriend. Whose feet touch the wall while his hands are buried underneath his back.

- You giggle quietly before placing your hand over his lips. In response, his eyes are wide open but as soon as he realizes who it is, his features soften and he blinks, trying to adjust his vision to the barely illuminated room.

- With one hand still on his lips, you lower yourself on the side of the bed while pulling down his pants. His boner immediately popped out of his underwear.

- His eyes are wide but he jiggles the pants down his ankles quietly, constantly looking around to make sure everyone else is asleep.

- You place your mouth around the tip of his cock, a blob of saliva dripping from your lips. You can already taste the salty pre-cum as a result of the dream he was having.

- He gasps and you tighten the grip over his lips, listening as Reiner mumbles something in his sleep before shifting in his bed.

- Saliva drips all over his dick and his hips, his ass tightening in response to your action. So you decide to speed up and take his full lenght in without a second thought.

- You suck his dick as if your life depended on it until his pelvis begins to shake, a sign he’s about to come. You proceed to take him out of your mouth and begin to stroke his cock at a fast pace until ropes of cum shoot onto his abdomen.

- His head hits the wall and his actions result in a very much awake Reiner, who looks around in confusion only to find Bert sleeping in a relatively normal position under his covers and you are gone.

- Of course, you are just hiding under the bed, trying to hold back laughter when Reiner asks your boyfriend if he heard something. Bert still gasps for air quietly so he simply says no and goes back to pretending to be asleep.

- When Reiner flips over, you kiss the tip of your fingers and blow it towards your boyfriend, jumping through the window and leaving behind a very flustered Bert.

-Armin often likes to read books underneath a tree a little far away from the mess known as the Survey Corps. 

- Eventually, he started bringing you with him simply because he enjoyed your company and wanted to share this amazing space with you. Little did he know, it was about to become much more special.

- His back rests against the tree and your head lies on his lap. Suddenly, you feel his dick getting harder and harder against the back of your head. You look up and his face is redder than you have ever seen.

- “This book is a little spicier than I thought it would be.” He says, trying to adjust his boner in a manner that it wouldn’t bother or hurt you.

- “Let me help you.” You say, putting your own book down on the grass while pulling his zipper down.

- You realize his cock is bigger than you first thought it would be and you gasp quietly, measuring it against your face. He looks away but still whimpers against your touch.

- “I want you to look at me baby.” You say, touching his chin while moving his face. His ocean eyes meet yours and you feel like you could drown in them and not care one bit.

- When you begin to bob your head up and down, you notice his eyes roll to the back of his head but you can tell your words are still fresh in his mind so he does everything in his power to look at you.

- You pull out his testicles, using one of your hands to stroke his cock while sucking on one of his balls. He cries your name out.

- With a bit of saliva, you begin to rub circles on the tip of his cock. A smile on his lips as he begins to jiggle his toes around.

- “You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” He says and it’s your turn to blush.

- Your tongue moves around gently and, with his hand, he pulls you down on his cock. You try your best not to gag and you are able to hold it back. He smiles even bigger and whispers the words “good girl.”

-Once you begin to bob your head up and down faster, he knows he’s done for and he barely has enough time to warn you about what’s coming.

- “You’re gonna make me come!” He says before his cum takes over your tongue. You swallow it all before showing him your tongue and he’s now back to the shy, innocent boy you are used to.

- “You are a demon in disguise!” You say, wiping your mouth with the back of your hands while he puts his cock back in his pants.

-“Same to you, my love.” He says, “Same to you.”

[friendlyneighborhoodcapricorn]

oh oh hi :D I was checking out your blog and I literally fell in love. so um I was wondering if you could do maybe a tasm Peter Parker x reader where it’s like when they’ve both been through some bad stuff snd that night they just come home to their apartment and this could be after a big battle (I kinda like the idea that they fight together) against some villain and they jsur like sag against the wall and y/n just cries from pain and stuff and idk kind of sad but after a bit they like go and take showers and go to bed and try and make it better

ik this is a bit much but idk I kinda like it, you don’t have have to write it of course though so yeah don’t be pressured or anything:) have a good day :)

Hi!! Thank you, first of all, for your kind words, and for this super lovely request that I am totally going to write! (I’m a sucker for angsty but soft fics, this is right up my alley!)

TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Tired

A/N: I kind of altered this a bit so that it’s not necessarily a battle but more of a big disaster, though you can imagine it was caused by a villain. Also, for the purpose of this fic, reader is essentially the Hawkeye of the TASM universe.

Tags: @wellfuckthis @ginger-swag-rapunzel

Let me know if you want to be tagged in any future tasm works :)

Warnings: mentions of injuries, blood, and trauma; discussions of death; some swearing; angst; hurt/comfort; showering together, but not in the "we're both tired and low-key traumatized" kinda way.

You were certain there were easier ways to do this, but you couldn’t exactly maintain a secret identity if you hailed a cab while wearing a bloodied by still recognisable suit.

Not that you’d be able to hail a cab, not with the way the roads had gotten destroyed. Here, in the depths of some long-forgotten neighborhood of Queens, there was no sign of the destruction that had been brought upon Manhattan.

But the memory was fresh in your mind and you couldn’t suppress a shiver.

“Five more minutes,” you muttered to Peter, who was leaning most of his weight on your shoulder to avoid having to put it on his injured leg.

“Finally,” he said, warm breath brushing against your jaw. “Thought we’d never get here.”

“Don’t sound so relieved. We’ve still gotta deal with the stairs.”

Peter swore and you squeezed the arm he had swung around your neck.

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to live on the eight floor in a building with a busted elevator,” you reminded him, but while this was an inside joke, neither of you laughed.

After dragging yourselves up the stairs, cursing the entire way, you finally reached the door to your apartment. You just barely managed to wrangle your keys from one of the many pockets on your suit and unlock the door.

The moment it opened, Peter limped inside, folding himself over the back of the couch. You followed even more slowly, closing the door behind you and leaning against it.

Just taking a moment to breathe.

“I never want to do something like this again,” Peter mumbled, voice muffled against the fabric of the couch.

Too tired to move, you slid to the floor. “Me neither.”

When you closed your eyes, you could still see all the blood, coating the road like sinister rain.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked, his voice carrying over the screams in your mind.

You raised your head, feeling warm tears running down your cheeks. “I should be asking you that. Aren’t you bleeding to death?”

“It’s healing,” he replied, but he was grimacing.

“We should probably get that checked out,” you said, making no move to get up.

“Probably,” he agreed, curling back into the couch. Then, after a moment of silence, he asked: "You're not moving either, are you?"

"Nope."

"We really should, though."

Sighing, you heaved yourself off the ground, your muscles already starting to protest. "We really should. Come on."

Hearing his uneven footsteps behind you, you went ahead into the bathroom and turned the water on. Peter leaned in the doorway, tilting his head as he watched you search for the first-aid kit you kept under the sink for this exact reason.

"Try and get out of your suit," you told him as you bustled past him, pausing only to press a kiss to his hair. "I'm gonna get us a change of clothes."

Peter stopped you by grabbing your wrist and tugging you back towards him. "Wait. I- Just stay here for a second?"

This wasn't out of the ordinary, especially not after nights like this. Peter had been through some horrible things, and you knew he always took things like this harder. He needed the reassurance that you were still there.

So you stayed, and let him wrap his arms around your waist as he looked up at you. "I'm so happy you're alive, (Y/N). I though- with everything that was happening, I wasn't sure if either of us was going to make it. But if only one of us could've survived, I would've wanted it to be you. Because I don't think I can live in a world about you."

His words made your heart ache, and your chest felt too tight. You cupped his face in your hands. "I wouldn't be able to live in a world without you either. Which is why I am really fucking relieved that you're sitting here in front of me."

Despite the horrible night you had both had, he smiled. The world suddenly looked a little brighter again. "I love you."

"I love you too." You kissed him softly. "Can we please get in the shower now? Before the water gets cold?"

Maybe cold water would've been a better idea, you thought as the hot spray burned in your cuts and scrapes. The water swirling towards the drain was pale red, possibly because Peter's leg was still bleeding.

"That's going to need stitches," you pointed out, voice barely audible over the rush of water.

"Problems for later," Peter replied, shaking wet hair from his eyes. "Are you alright?"

He nodded at your arm and when you raised it, you spotted the bright red welts that would surely turn into a myriad of colors in the following days. They were what happened when you released your bowstring and it caught your arm. Usually, you wore a guard or at least tilted your arm away, but tonight every arrow had been a matter of life or death. You hadn't had time to grab your guard on the way out, and you hadn't had the time to think before taking aim.

"They'll fade," you assured him. "Honestly, I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about."

He shuffled closer and nearly slipped on the wet floor. "I've had worse, (Y/N)."

You shook your head. "Worse than tonight is impossible. It..."

Words failed you as you thought of the neon lights of Times Square reflecting not in puddles of rain, but puddles of blood. That had already been the case when both of you arrived. But while you had been frozen in horror for a few seconds, Peter had flung himself headfirst into the danger. That was what he did: he went into the fray and helped whoever he could, and you had his back, watching from a distance and taking down anything that was a threat.

Tonight, that had meant getting a bird's eye view of the destruction and death. You already knew you weren't going to sleep tonight.

"You know," Peter started, drawing your attention back to him. "When I asked if you were alright, I didn't just mean physically."

Sighing, you reached to shut off the water. It was starting to run cold, and there was no reason to stay in there any longer. "I will be. You?"

He nodded. "Same. I just wanna sleep for a century."

"In a bit," you said, stepping out of the shower and wrapping the soft towel around you, then turning back to help him out. "I'm never closing my eyes again."

"That bad?" he asked, limping over to a chair you kept in the bathroom for this exact reason.

You shot him a look and went to your bedroom to grab the change of clothes you had forgotten about earlier. It was a warm summer night, but you opted for long pants instead of shorts. After tonight, you were sure you'd never get warm again.

A pair of arms wrapping around you from behind proved you wrong, warmth surging through your body with the familiarity of that touch.

"Stop thinking," Peter whispered in your ear.

"Stop dripping water all over my pajamas," you dryly responded.

He immediately pulled away. "Sorry. Forgot about that."

Fondly, you rolled your eyes and turned around. "How's your leg?"

"Stopped bleeding. It'll probably heal on its own, but I bandaged it anyway."

"You had time to- how long was I in here?"

"Just a minute or five," he said, soothingly rubbing your arms. "You wanna go straight to bed?"

You nodded. "Yeah. Don't think there's going to be anything fun on TV right now."

Peter winced. "You're probably right about that. I'm just gonna go turn the lights off everywhere, alright? You go ahead and get in bed."

He didn't give you any time to protest, already limping out of the room as fast as he could. It didn't make you laugh, but it did make you smile. It was a reminder that no matter how horrible things got, the world kept turning. The sun would rise again, and maybe the world would be different, but it would still be turning.

"Are you still awake?" Peter asked, coming back into the room only moments after you had made yourself comfortable.

"I'm not you, I don't drift off that quickly," you remarked and when he opened his mouth to protest, you merely raised an eyebrow.

He reconsidered, and decided: "Fair enough."

Then he climbed in next to you and rolled on his side so you were facing each other. Neither of you said anything. You didn't have to.

On nights like this, all you needed to know was that the other was still there. You were reassured easily enough, by just seeing it with your own two eyes. As an archer, your sight was your most trusted sense.

Peter, whose senses were all heightened to oblivion, wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you closer, tucking your head under his chin. His hand trailed up and down your spine, more to comfort him than you.

"Comfortable?" he asked softly, and you nodded, suddenly too tired to speak. "Alright. Goodnight, (Y/N)."

As a response, you kissed his shoulder, feeling his entire body shiver.

Maybe things weren't exactly okay right now, but the world was still turning and you still had each other. What more could you need?

[rjhpandapaws]

Through Cracks in the Stone

This is my first foray into Sidlink, and writing for BotW but I am excited about it. I belted this out on my 30 minute break at work yesterday.

//CW: For implied Suicidal ideation, as well as low self worth

Link was a great many things; as Sidon had learned; strong, resilient, kind, gentle, and unfailingly generous; just to name a few. And so very, very broken. It seeped out of him like winter runoff through the cracks in a partially eroded stone. Tiny trickles at a time. In silences that have stretched just this side of too long, even for him. In quiet sighs that could barely be heard and still shook Sidon like thunder. The tears his beloved Hylian hero would shed when he believed he was alone. Things that Sidon was certain he was the only one to notice. It hurt him to see that Link was in this much pain, and hadn't spoke a word of it to anyone as far as Sidon was aware.

Perhaps it was his old knight's training that kept him from voicing what was clearly eating at him. Or maybe now that his job had been completed he felt that those who had stood with him through Ganon's fall and all it wrought on Hyrule would no longer care. That particular train of thought made something sharp and bitter blossom in Sidon's chest. He pushed it aside, because he knew it wasn't true. He cared for Link, dearly, more than was probably wise in fact. So that couldn't be the reason; unless of course; Link didn't know.

Sidon was fairly certain he had made it clear that he was Link's friend. So why then? Why wouldn't Link come to him with his troubles? Goddess knows Sidon had confided in him often enough. Even if he couldn't help, having someone to just listen might ease his burden some. It always helped Sidon at the very least, Link's advice wasn't the best, but it was nice to have. He planned on bringing it up the next time he saw Link. He didn't plan on the next time he came across Link to be so soon. While he was seated by the water, looking into it like it held the answer to the sorrow in his eyes. Sidon crested the water slowly, and winced at Link tried to force a smile into place. "You know you can tell me anything," He said in way of greeting, "Right my dear friend?" Link only stared at him from where he was perched on the rock. He lifted his hands to sign only to hesitate for so long that Sidon feared he wasn't going to say anything at all. 'I Know.' He signed, 'Nothing is Wrong.'

Sidon wanted to scream out the frustration that built in his chest, he didn't though, that would only push Link away. He took a breath to collect himself and tried again. "You have been alone for so long." Sidon pressed carefully and slowly moved closer to the shallows though he took care to keep himself submerged to keep the heat off his scales, "You must be used to hiding your troubles, but you don't have to anymore, not from me." He sees the exact moment what he said sank in. The hesitation and fear that fills those usually depthless blue eyes and his heart breaks. Being a hero surely must be a lonely path. His hands are shaking when he picks them up to sign again, 'I Have Nothing Left.' His movements are small, like a whisper, 'I Did What I Was Made For. Now There Is Nothing Left. With Hylia Appeased I Am No Longer Needed.' A quiet sob rattled through Link and he put his hands down and looked away from Sidon, perhaps to try and hide this moment of weakness.

"You're wrong!" Sidon doesn't mean to shout and flinches when he hears his own desperate cry echo back at him from the rocks, he chases it with a whisper, "I need you." Link doesn't smile, but something gives. The stone wall he hides behind cracks just a little more giving room for something to grow. They haven't scratched the surface of what is hurting Link, but it's a place to start, and that is all Sidon needs.

[s-brant]

Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

Summary: Hurricane Agatha approaches Kildare Island during the aftermath of the eventful Fourth of July party. JJ and Y/N are determined to continue avoiding each other after what happened at the party, but John B has other plans for them.

Warnings: Smut, strong language, angst, implied physical abuse, depictions of anxiety/panic attacks, and sickeningly sweet fluff.

Word Count: 24k

A/N: Here we goooo! To celebrate the trailer dropping today, here’s part two to Devils Roll The Dice. If you haven’t read the first part, I suggest you read it and come back so this makes sense. This one has all the drama and spice, so buckle up! Thank you for the love and support on the first part. Let me know if you enjoyed this and have fun, cause I had a blast writing it.

Hurricane Agatha.

It was the first thing she heard about as soon as she woke up yesterday to the sound of her phone blaring with an obnoxious tone that reminds her of waking up too early in the morning for work or school.

Her sleepy eyes couldn't make out who was calling, so she pressed the button to answer and lifted the phone to hear her mom's voice squawking through the speaker at her about the hurricane projected to hit the island in the middle of the night tonight.

The problem is, her parents are out of town this week, leaving her all alone to prep the house and endure the storm alone. And for someone who flinches whenever she thinks she hears the sound of thunder in the sky, that is the worst it can get.

It's a fear her friends are conscious of. One time when they were out on the HMS Pogue, a quick summer storm started to drift overhead and it took all of her self control to not fall into a blind panic when thunder began to rumble above. John B was already steering them back in the direction of the Chateau but she knew it would do nothing to calm her nerves until she was back inside of the house.

The anxiety was starting to become too overwhelming when JJ sat down beside her and threw his arm over her shoulder. It was their first month of knowing one another, so the casual friendly gesture made her jump at first and turn her head to look at him, but he acted like everything was normal.

The next person to notice was John B. With JJ currently out of commission, the only person she thought to call to help her prep the house for the incoming storm was him. Since they never got hurricanes up where she used to live her whole life, she needed someone who's been through a couple to help her while her parents weren't home.

That's how she ended up here. Sweating bullets in the front yard of her house as she unloads the contents of the van with John B was not how she envisioned her Saturday night to go, but she's glad she has someone who's willing to help.

In the past five months of being with the Pogues, she's learned that it's lovely to have friends. She never used to have any before she moved, so in situations like this or when she got so drunk at the party, she never would've had anyone to be there for her. It's quiet moments of kindness and companionship like this that make her realize how much better life has been on the other side of uprooting everything to move here—self-inflicted boy drama and all.

The sandbag on her shoulder sends a growing ache through her back muscles with every step she takes to follow him up the length of unpaved dirt path up to her front door. As usual, he makes it look way easier than it is, and it almost makes her want to laugh at how different they are.

Most of her new friends are effortless, naturally picking up anything they decide to try at while she is inept by comparison. It's part of what attracted her to JJ in the first place. He may have his insecurities the same way every other individual does, but in her eyes, he has nothing to be insecure of. Even when he wipes out on a wave and appears out of the water with sand clumped in his salt-kissed strands of blonde hair, he manages to make it look cool.

"What are you smiling about?"

John B's laughter makes her look up from where she concentrated on the dirt path to see him looking back at her. He stands at the entrance to her house with the rest of the sandbags they carried up placed meticulously in front of the door to prevent water from entering the house. They did the same thing with the back door an hour ago.

Is she smiling? She hadn't even realized her expression changed from one of exhaustion and fear at the dark clouds closing in above to a grin, so her face instantly drops in guilt. After running out on JJ for the second time two days ago to go to work, any mention of him from their friends has left her drowning in shame.

She can't recall the bulk of her memories from the night of the Fourth of July party, but she fills in the gaps between those flashes of memory with what their friends told her about it.

Thanks to her overindulgence, there are holes poked in the fabric of her memory.

It jumps from her last fully sober moment of seeing JJ across the room with the kook girl to dancing clumsily with Kie to the floral scent of her makeup wipes that she can't attach a specific visual image to.

Then, she can remember waking up with a start in the middle of the night to throw up in a pot beside the bed while he held back her hair. Before John B explained it, she was quite confused after waking up about how she somehow got from being jealous over JJ flirting with another girl to waking up in the same bed as him.

She grunts as she plops the last sandbag down into place and decides to take a seat on the steps leading up to the door.

"It wasn't anything special," Y/N says and watches him come down to sit next to her, "I was just thinking about taking something so I can pass out and avoid having a panic attack over this stupid storm."

Unlike JJ, she isn't that skilled of a liar. It's obvious to anyone who knows her well when she does it based on the way her eye contact begins to drift away and her voice raises in pitch when she speaks. She's too honest with her friends to handle keeping secrets from them, which is why it's been so difficult for her with everything that has happened recently. Not only does she lie to the Pogues, she also avoids them by association in the process of trying to avoid JJ.

Regardless of how obvious her bluffing is, John B doesn't call her out on it. Instead, he focuses on a different part of what she said.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay alone? I know your parents are out of town till next week..." he trails off into concerned silence.

The tip of her sneaker hangs off of the edge of the bottom step and absentmindedly digs a line into the dirt as she takes in his question.

Being alone when she's prone to panicking is a recipe for disaster. Anxiety and loneliness have a relationship similar to that of a weapon and ammunition. It takes very little for her to fall down the rabbit hole of obsessive thinking and break down into a hyperventilating, fearful mess, especially when no one else is there to tug her out of those dark thoughts.

Most of the time, the people who help her with that are her parents. If they're home during one of these episodes, she'll come stumbling downstairs to them from her room for help, and they'll do everything they can to bring her down from hysterics. Her friends, on the other hand, have yet to witness her have one of those moments.

"Having people with me helps, you know? But it is what it is, I'll just try to cope the best I can and hope for the best."

He nods, and though he's a portrait of understanding, she wonders if he finds it as juvenile and stupid as she does.

Logically, she knows that this anxiety is something many people experience. She understands that it's something that is mostly out of her control but can't help but tear herself apart over it.

She thinks to herself, What kind of weirdo can't sit inside during a thunderstorm or hurricane without losing their shit? Why am I not the one in control of my own mind when this happens?

Do her friends think similar things? Do they think it's as pathetic as she does, or is she just paranoid that they pick her flaws apart as much as she does? And, of course, she wonders what JJ would think if he saw her panic like that. He may have seen her start to become anxious on the HMS Pogue, but he hasn't seen her panic panic before, not in the way that her parents have, and she wonders if he'd think less of her for it.

Right when she's about to change the topic and steer him away from a chance to think of how ridiculous she's being about the approaching hurricane, he says something that makes her look back over at him.

"Then come spend the night at the Chateau. I can distract you. We can play board games and shit."

"Really?" she asks.

The idea of anyone wanting to waste an entire night playing board games and possibly signing themselves up for having to talk her down from a panic attack makes her heart melt.

"Yeah, why not? You need a friend tonight. You know any of us would do anything for you. You're like my little sister, dude, we'd all probably hack off a limb if we thought it'd help you. Especially JJ."

John B's last second name-drop is designed specifically for where he wants this conversation to go. Underneath the need to get his friends back to normal, he does feel a little guilty for having to do this. She thinks he's only offering to let her stay with him to help her—and he is, even if there weren't a rift between her and JJ, he'd still offer—but he has a different reason.

"Right," she says softly. "Speaking of which...is he gonna be there tonight?"

With how often he escapes his house to spend a night or two in temporary safety at the Chateau, it's not an unfounded assumption. He and John B spend more time together than any of them because of this, and when she goes over to hang out, she knows that he and JJ often come as a package deal.

He tries to play it cool and not give up anything that could make her suspicious of him, looking off at the van parked in the driveway as he takes a second to collect his thoughts. It's never easy for him to deceive people he cares about, even if it's for their own good. It wasn't easy when he invited JJ to spend the night a few hours ago with the knowledge that he'd soon invite Y/N too either, but he managed.

As always, Pope is the brains behind this operation. He was the one to suggest inviting them both over to wait out Agatha together when the three of them put their heads together to come up with a solution to their oblivious friends' drama. After JJ stormed out of the house the morning after the party, they knew they had to do something about it. This was what it came to.

"Nah. I offered but he said he's staying at home until this whole thing blows over."

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

She knows JJ well enough to know that he would literally rather eat glass than be trapped in a confined space with his dad for an entire day. Perhaps it's only because it's what she wants to believe. She wants to believe that she won't have to see him again tonight after everything that happened. How can she handle having to tell him why got so drunk that night and made an ass of herself? She can't bear to tell him all of that unnecessary drama started because she was jealous.

What right does she have to feel that way? He isn't hers. They aren't together, and she thinks it's quite obvious that he doesn't want a relationship out of whatever it is they have together. It was one night. She has no right to be mad at him for flirting with other girls because of it.

"Then I'll definitely be taking you up on that offer. Thank you," she says.

The old wooden stairs make a squealing sound when she stands to make her way inside to gather her things for the night, but the feeling of a warm hand gripping her forearm stops her mid-step. Her eyes follow down the length of her arm back to where he sits, glancing at her with this knowing look in his eyes that makes her want to turn and hide.

"When are you gonna talk things out with him, Y/N?" he asks. "He misses you."

Since the party, no one has had the courage to burst her bubble of pretending not to care until now, but now that someone has, all of her bottled up emotions stir inside of her at a simple concept she hadn't considered yet.

JJ misses her.

For the first time since they began this stupid game of cat and mouse, she is confronted with how desperately she misses him back. So consumed with the task of concealing everything that happened and trying to avoid him, she hadn't acknowledged that all she ever really wants is to be with him lately.

She misses his jokes and the way he looks at her when she giggles at them. She misses his smile when they play fight on the HMS Pogue. She even misses when he dangles her over the edge of the boat as a means to end the wrestling match, making her squirm in his strong hold as he threatens to toss her overboard.

But what she misses most of all is how he never lets her fall in. It's something about the way he looks at her as he pulls her back onboard, how time itself seems to stop in the moment between when he's still holding her and when she feels her feet touch the deck again.

Then, they'll suddenly want nothing to do with each other for the next half hour.

JJ will make himself busy forgetting the way her hands felt holding onto his shoulders for dear life, burning the memory of her palm prints into his skin for the next few hours. And she'll try her hardest to forget that charming smile and the feeling of his arms around her. But it won't work, not really, and when they're both laying down to sleep at night, they'll have one thing keeping them awake.

She takes a second to internalize what he said and avoid exposing the effect it has on her to hear it before asking, "Did he tell you that?"

The sky overhead grows darker and darker by the second, but she has yet to notice it due to the topic of their conversation. With JJ involved, her attention shrinks to a tunnel leading only to him. There's no room for anything else but the audacious idea planted in the back of her mind that he might miss her as much as she misses him.

"No, he didn't," John B admits, and right when she's about to say more in response, he cuts her off, "but hear me out. I've known him since we were kids, so I can tell when things aren't right with him, and ever since your relationship with him got complicated, I picked up on some weird vibes."

Y/N doesn't give anything away with how she reacts. He can't tell if she's about to bolt like JJ did or stay to talk and open up to him. All she does is cross her arms over her chest and lean back against the railing.

"Weird in what way?"

"Weird in a way that makes me think you two have to talk it out before you ruin your friendship. I've never seen him act this way over a girl."

That doesn't surprise her. He has a reputation for chasing after any girl available to him, something the Pogues have gently teased him about, and it factors into why she doesn't want to have this dreaded conversation with him. She doesn't want to sit there and listen to him tell her that she was just another one of those girls to him.

Going for broke and being honest about what he thinks of their situation is a better strategy for trying to get her to talk to JJ than the other way around. John B can look back on what happened the morning after the party and see where they went wrong in their approach of trying to get him to talk, but she's less unpredictable and turbulent than he is. The fact that she's hearing him out is enough proof of their differences.

She sighs.

"I know we need to talk sooner or later, but it's hard, you know? I'm so embarrassed of how everything went down at the party, even though I was too fucked up to remember most of it, and I just—" There's a brief second that lapses between when she stops and when she starts again where he can almost see her working through it in her head. "I don't wanna get hurt."

John B's face falls at the mention of the party and her feelings surrounding it.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed of. You drank too much but who cares? The only person who should be embarrassed about that night is the guy that tried to take advantage of you."

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

She can remember what led up to it and the moment she saw JJ pull him away from her, but she can't remember anything about the interaction itself. It wasn't as if he did anything to her—not yet—but the thought of it alone makes her skin crawl because she's seen that before. She's been the JJ in that situation, pulling a wasted Touron away from someone who thought nobody would be looking out for other people at the party, and she knows how quickly those situations can escalate past "harmless" flirting.

The sound of JJ shouting at Tyler echoes in her mind as she reaches for any remaining memories left from the party. He said it right after he punched him, when he was starting to rush forward to follow him onto the ground and pin him there.

"If I see you near my girl again, you're fucking dead! You got that?"

She doesn't remember realizing that he called her that at the moment. She was confused and upset and all she wanted to do was stop him from getting himself in trouble, so she pulled him away from hitting Tyler again without realizing what he said. And even now, she tries to avoid acknowledging it. She reasons with herself, telling herself that he was pissed off and didn't mean it, because if he did, why hasn't he told her how he feels yet?

Y/N looks up and sees how dark the converging clouds have gotten in the time since they began working on prepping the house for the hurricane, so her next words are shakier than usual.

"I guess you're right." She pushes off of her spot against the railing. "But can we not talk about JJ tonight? I kind of wanna hang out and forget about the rest of the stuff I've got going on right now."

This makes him feel a pang of guilt inside of him for the ulterior motive he's kept hidden from her for the duration of the conversation, but he knows it's for the best. Even if her and JJ's inevitable conversation goes in the wrong direction and they don't end up mending fences, it's better that they let it out sooner than later. If they wait any longer, it'll make it worse, and he knows that they're stubborn enough to keep this childish game going for another week or so.

So, he keeps her in the dark for now and offers a kind, "Sure, that's cool with me," despite knowing how messy the night will soon become.

A smile pokes at the edges of her mouth, making the sides of her eyes crinkle, and she extends a hand to help him up from where he sits.

"Now," she says as they make their way inside the house for her to pack a bag, "are you ready to get absolutely crushed in Monopoly?"

It started to rain before they left her house, and by the time they pull into the driveway of the Chateau, it's pouring down on them with violent winds whipping droplets at their faces hard enough to hurt.

The rapid pace of her pulse beats with such an intensity, she can feel it in her head. They shouldn't have taken so much time at her place before heading over here. While she was packing, they talked and dilly-dallied the whole time, and now they pay the price for it.

If she knew that it would start this soon into the night, she probably would've hurried things along sooner, but it's too late. She's already starting to feel that tightness in her chest and each breath of air feels less satisfying with every inhale. It's not so bad that she loses complete control of herself, but it's getting there, and she can't express how badly she doesn't want to lose her shit in front of John B.

The passenger side door is slammed shut by the force of the wind behind her, the noise becoming swallowed up in the rest of the budding storm, and she stifles a sound of surprise that escapes her in reaction to it. They're lucky they made it here in the first place. Any later in the night and they probably would've had to take refuge at her place until it blew over.

She decides to focus on how the edges of her white sneakers are swallowed up by the muddy earth on her way through the front yard to distract herself. It stains them a deep brown color and simultaneously washes them clean from the rain coming down from above, which she'd probably be annoyed about if she weren't such a nervous wreck. But, because she's too busy keeping her backpack raised over her head to shield herself from the rain on her way up to the front door, it's not high up on her list of priorities.

Since both the screen door and the door behind it are unlocked, she doesn't hesitate to come bursting into the house as she usually does.

Y/N lets out a deep breath, feeling that telltale tension in her chest and shoulders, and laughs at the sight of John B running in as she kicks off her shoes. His t-shirt is speckled with rainwater, and his hair is saturated enough with it to stick to the sides of his face after he crosses the threshold into the Chateau.

The sound of her laughter makes JJ's heart stop from where he stands in the kitchen.

"There was an umbrella right on the dashboard, why didn't you take—"

Her heart might as well have stopped just as abruptly as the sentence she was in the middle of saying when she turned and saw him standing there.

Maybe they're both a tad too dramatic, but it takes a full few seconds for them to stop staring at each other in surprise. He looks like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide with surprise like he was caught doing something he shouldn't even though all he was doing was grabbing a beer from the fridge.

It's been two days since they last saw each other. For him, the last glimpse he got of her was when he peeked through the blinds to see her pedaling away on her bike to go to work, but hers was somewhat different.

The last time she saw him, he was asleep. Their legs were tangled together underneath the sheets and his face was smushed against her chest, allowing her to feel the soft puffs of his exhales on her skin every few seconds. It's a wonder that she managed to slip away unnoticed once she remembered she had work that morning. He was holding her closely, so closely that she found it hard to discern where she ended and he began in the dazed, hungover headspace she woke up in.

It's when the conversation she had with John B on the front steps of her house comes back to the forefront of her mind that she puts together what's happening right now. Now that they're here, it's far too late to leave. With how aggressively the wind and rain batter the area surrounding the house, it's obvious that they're not going anywhere.

It seems to click with them at the same time, because JJ turns to look at him only a half second after she does.

Y/N says, completely serious, "If you did what I think you did, I'm gonna kill you."

Before either of them can think of doing anything, John B shoots out from the doorway and runs past her in the direction of the hallway where his bedroom is.

"Gotta catch me first!"

They both chase him, JJ hopping over the back of the couch to run after him, but they end up coming to a screeching halt at the shut door right when they hear the lock turn and click.

Neither of them knows what they were planning to do when they caught him, cause it isn't like they'd hurt him, but they bang on the door nonetheless. The sound is drowned out by the sound of the wind and rain pounding the outside walls of the house, picking up speed, and for a second she wants to kick the door open.

She shouts, "John B! Open this door!"

The last thing she wanted tonight was to be trapped in a house with the one person she didn't want to see. Doesn't John B realize how embarrassing it is for her to be around him when she knows that he's gonna reject her? He may have said something about JJ never acting so weird over a girl before, but he's wrong. There's no way JJ actually wants her...right?

"I can't hear you, this storm's kinda loud!" he yells back at them through the locked door. "Maybe try again later!"

Neither of them wants to acknowledge the other. In fact, they don't even want to look at each other right now, so all they can do to stop themselves from acknowledging the elephant in the room is continue trying to get answers out of John B. What does he think that locking them together in the Chateau for the night will accomplish other than make them ignore their own drama and team up to plot their revenge on him?

Though he's significantly less angry than she is, JJ pulls the doorknob enough to make the door whine on its hinges and pleads with their friend, "This isn't funny, John B. Open the door."

"Not until you guys stop being immature and talk to each other."

She furrows her brows at him even though he can't see her, saying, "It's none of your business. You can't just trap us here cause you think you know what's best for us."

The sound of thunder rumbling above the house makes her flinch, hand shooting out to latch onto JJ's arm on an instinct she couldn't consciously resist. Feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her palm and the fingers clutched around his wrist sends shocks of familiar electricity up her body. Touching him always makes her feel hyperaware of herself, leaving her to wonder if he can sense her pulse picking up or notice how her breathing pattern turns uneven.

With that being said, it's safe to say that the night they spent together took that sensation of electricity and hyperawareness to a height it hadn't reached before.

That time, it wasn't a brush of their hands or an arm over her shoulder, it was the epitome of physical closeness. She couldn't handle it. He was so sickeningly sweet with her, yet, at the same time, he knew all of the right times to be commanding and in control too. There were awkward moments at first, sure, but once they became comfortable with each other, it was game over.

And whenever they've touched since, she hasn't been able to get those memories off of her mind. It's less prevalent now, since she's only holding onto him out of fear, but it's still there underneath it all—the unfiltered desperation of the lust in his eyes, the low noises that escaped his parted lips, and the strong pair of hands that pinned her hips down on the mattress to give him the leverage to really give it to her at the intensity she begged for.

It's pathetically easy for her to be sucked right back into the vortex of emotions, memories, and fears that haunt her whenever they touch, but he brings her back out of it just as easily when he speaks.

"You okay?"

John B was as good as forgotten by him as soon as he felt her jolt next to him and grab onto his wrist like she was hanging from a ravine and he was the only thing preventing her from falling. It makes him feel like a fool, but even when they're ignoring each other, the urge to comfort and protect her from anything that displeases her never disappears. He'd literally fistfight Zeus if it meant there'd be less thunder to scare her.

If he weren't hiding behind a locked door to avoid their wrath, JB would probably be calling him a simp right about now.

The concern on his face is so pure and unaffected by any of the chaos that surrounds them, both physical and emotional, that it makes her stomach turn with a sick feeling. God, he really does care about her. Why does that scare her? Why doesn't she want to believe that he cares? Why is she so set on believing that he wanted nothing more than a quick fuck from her?

Her eyes turn down to see their connected hands, realizing all in one moment what she did and pulling her hand away as if she were burned.

"I—Yeah," she stops, looking up at him, then back to the closed bedroom door, "I'm fine. You know how it is, it's just the storm."

They're both left with no choice but to face the music after days of avoidance that had no good reason behind it other than the respective doubts and fears they have. Yet even now that they're standing here, unsure of what comes next, they're hesitant to say or do anything that might disrupt the illusion they've created in the week and a half since they first ruined their friendship for good.

It feels as though the tension that has been boiling between them is coming close to turning explosive and all it will take is one tremor of their self-control for it to spill over.

Every feeling they have feels so contradictory. They want to but they also don't. They almost do it, then hesitate and decide to ignore each other for days. At the party, this tug of war game was at its peak for JJ when she was telling him about her jealousy and cuddling up to him, but he couldn't do it then, not when she was drunk. And by the time he had a whole night to think it over and see her biking away, he didn't want to risk it.

She looks away from him, hoping that "out of sight, out of mind" may ring true for once, and says to John B through the door, "Whatever, have fun. I won't hold JJ back when you finally come out of there though."

He won't actually do anything to him, maybe just a non-serious fight that'll end with her walking in on them rolling around on the floor trying to wrestle each other, but she likes to fuck with him anyway. For the dick move he just pulled, she thinks he can withstand a little teasing.

Without anything else to say, Y/N turns and walks off to make herself useful elsewhere—anything to distract from the buzzing, anxious energy that surrounds her from both the hurricane and being forced to confront JJ. She tries to play it cool though she is anything but at the moment, allowing herself to grimace once her back is turned to the blonde boy still standing against the wall in the hallway.

Maybe if she keeps pushing this false sense of normalcy, it'll work. It worked when they both started pretending things never happened between them initially after they had sex, so who's to say it can't work now?

All they have to do is get through the next 12-24 hours without talking and all will be well. Right?

They tried.

They truly tried to get through the night without inciting chaos within the Chateau, but, for these two idiots, not inciting chaos is a task easier said than done. Not only was John B much more stubborn with staying in his room than either of them bargained for, he didn't even attempt to speak to them for the first five hours and they were left with nothing to do but find new ways to avoid talking to each other.

It was simple in the beginning.

She went off on her own and sat with her headphones in to drown out the sounds of the storm.

With her eyes fluttered shut to block out anything but the sound of The Cure blasting into her ears, there was no reason for her to have to worry about anything once her nerves began to settle. Since the songs drowned out any sound and all she could see was darkness behind her closed eyelids, she was able to drift away with the distraction of the music.

The thing is, after a while, she started to see pieces of him in every song she skipped to. She made it a full minute into Just Like Heaven before a supercut of her most treasured memories of him began appearing in her head. Fade Into You? Skipped as soon as the first dreamy lyric flooded in through the tangled cords of the headphones. Cloud 9? Forty seconds in. By the time Dirty Little Secret came on, she decided that her playlist was mocking her.

The headphones were out of her ears, hastily wrapped up, and stowed away in the small pocket of her overnight bag before the chorus of the song could hit. Thankfully for her, JJ wasn't looking when she ripped the headphones out and put them away in a huff, so by the time he turned to see her again, she was laying down on the couch to "nap"—meaning she laid awake for another hour and cursed John B for making her endure this.

While she was daydreaming of a John B voodoo doll, JJ was worried about her.

Yes, the topic of their relationship/friendship/situationship/whatever-the-fuck-it-is was bombarding him against his will every five seconds, but not without him coming back to his concern for her. A small sound of thunder on an otherwise perfect day was enough to make her zone out and start getting antsy that day on the boat, so he didn't want to know how bad it could get during a time like this.

He tried to play it cool, and, in all honesty, his remaining scraps of sanity lasted a lot longer than hers. Four and a half hours passed, then, as the storm began to do its worst on their town, the power flickered out and left them in complete darkness. At that point, John B was passed out in his bedroom, so he didn't care nor notice when they had to find a few candles and stumble through the dark.

Somewhere along the way, having to search through the dark house for candles to light and place around the living room led them here...he isn't quite sure how.

JJ can hardly open his eyes enough to see through the rain that pounds against him the second he runs after her through the back door. The wind is so aggressive and unrelenting, it almost sends him stumbling a few steps when he follows her blurry figure a few paces behind where she tries to flee the house in a panic.

"Get back inside!" he shouts as he picks up his speed to catch up, "Y/N!"

The part of him that isn't focused on the pure physicality of trying to see and move through the stormy weather is utterly overwhelmed with fear. Not for himself but for her. She's deathly afraid of mild storms, let alone hurricanes, and yet she ran through the back door when he tried comforting her through an anxiety attack. One would think that she wouldn't want to go directly into the thing she fears the most, but what sent her running for the hills wasn't the panic itself, it was him.

It's hard for her to think rationally in this state, but all she knows is that he was there, he was saying all the right things and holding her, and she couldn't do it. The fear began to blend to one centered around both him and the storm. The hours of useless distractions and ruminating in her thoughts built up to this point of contention, then it snapped.

Between the thunder, his voice, and the voice in the back of her head that was urging her to confess her feelings and do as John B advised them to, it became too much. Maybe it was the most idiotic split-second decision she made without any regard for logic or reason or her safety, but she bailed. For the third time, she couldn't handle the pressure and ran from him.

The only difference is that he couldn't let her leave this time.

He gasps for air against the streams of water flowing down his face, soaking his hair and making it hang in his eyes to obstruct his view more than the weather already has. It happened so fast, neither of them are wearing shoes. His feet sink into the muddy yard with every stride he takes in his frantic pursuit of her and it frustrates him no end because of how it slows him down.

There's endless dangerous possibilities with her being out here. She could be knocked over into the marsh by the wind, or stuck and hurt by a piece of debris—merely thinking about it makes him call out her name louder in the hopes that it'll wake her from her panicked trance.

After trudging through the mud all the way to the edge of the yard, he finally manages to get to her.

"What are you doing?" JJ shouts, turning her around and grabbing onto both of her arms as if one gust of wind would sweep her away if he didn't, "You're gonna get hurt!"

Stumbling backwards in the direction of the screened-in porch that surrounds the back door, he uses their difference in strength to tug her away in the direction she came out in. The rain makes it difficult to keep a firm grasp on her, and she almost slips away a couple of times when the wind picks up enough to make him too unsteady to hold on.

His arms slip around her waist for a better grasp on her the closer they come to reaching the house. The last thing he wants is to almost get her back inside and lose her at the last second. She isn't thinking rationally right now with the panic she feels taking full control of her responses. He knows firsthand how it feels to be thrown headfirst into a panic attack, he's been in her shoes before and knows better than anyone the lengths your irrational mind will go to if it means survival. And for whatever reason, her response is flight, not fight.

The door to the screen porch takes all of his effort to open against the power of the wind blowing it back against the house.

He grits his teeth as he forces it open, one arm secured around her midsection, and helps her in before he slips inside too. The second he lets go of the door, it's sent slamming back into place and rattling in the frame behind them, but he doesn't spend anymore time on it other than the few seconds it takes to lock it. As soon as it clicks with him that they're safe—most importantly, that she's safe—he whips around to face her with a cold rage flowing through his veins.

"What the fuck?"

She stands in front of him with water pouring off of her in rapid drops onto the rug, and there are no thoughts in her head outside of the ones telling her to leave. Her tears blend in with the droplets of rain so seamlessly that he wouldn't know she's crying if not for the sound of it.

In between her rapid breaths and sobs, she yells back at him, "I was scared, okay?"

"Why'd you run out into the storm if you—"

"I wasn't afraid of the storm, I was afraid of you!"

The silence that follows is louder than anything they've experienced. Nothing can rival it, not the thunder, the rain, or anything can drown it out while he stares at her in shock. His eyes are wide, lips slightly parted as he reaches for something, anything, he can say in response to that, but there's nothing. For once, he is absolutely speechless.

Things got awkward between them in the initial aftermath of last week, but not like this. There was never an instance where he felt like there was nothing left for him to say to her to fill the uncomfortable silence that always brought forth memories of them together until now. Until she said the last thing he wanted or expected to hear.

His anger subsides as he picks over what he did in his head for anything that could've made her feel unsafe.

Before it evolved into him chasing after her through the hurricane, he noticed how terrible it had gotten for her when he lit the first candle. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her chest began to rise and fall faster with each second that passed. He could see it on her face that things were getting worse, but, now that he thinks of it, it got worse once he reached out to put his hand on her shoulder.

It felt like a dream sequence in his head, so hazy and faraway now that it's over, and he was so stunned by what she was doing, he didn't run after her until a few seconds later. There was a delay in which he stood there in surprise and tried to process what the hell just happened to no avail. Though it wasn't very long, he remembers it feeling like eternity tucked into the cramped space of four seconds.

JJ's voice is softer than she's ever heard it, asking into the void of the near-darkness that encloses them, "What'd I do?" And it breaks her heart in half to hear him sound so concerned, so terrified of the idea that he did something to hurt her when all he did was try to help. "I never meant to scare you, I swear. I know how bad it can get sometimes, and I know we haven't been talking but I'd never try to hurt you if that's what you thought..."

His thoughts run rampant with the possibilities of what she was thinking at the time, and he realizes that he can't stand the idea of her thinking anything badly of him. He never cares about what people think, but, fuck, he loathes the idea of her having any ill feelings toward him.

Y/N immediately starts shaking her head, her face scrunching with the emotion and incessant tears.

"I know you'd never hurt me. I was scared because..." she stops herself mid sentence, catching it right when she was about to admit the one thing she promised herself she wouldn't.

But the need to say it doesn't go away this time. Usually, once she catches herself she comes to her senses and realizes how foolish it would've been to confess, but this time is different. This time, the urge to speak her mind and tell him everything sticks around. The words left unsaid creep up her throat, thrashing and begging to let out after months of being pushed aside.

The look in her eyes is strangely reminiscent of the way she looked at him the night they hooked up, almost yearning in its nature, and he couldn't be more confused. She's scared of him, but she's looking at him like she did when she was two seconds away from jumping his bones. And if he didn't do anything wrong, why was she afraid enough to face her worst fear in order to avoid him?

"Because what?" he asks.

That frustration from when they first stepped into the porch hasn't vanished, it only took a backseat once she said she was afraid of him, not the storm, and he can feel it stirring up again. He's tired of not having answers. He's tired of mixed signals and loneliness and unrequited love. Most of all, he's tired of her running away all the time. At this point, he questions whether or not it's worth it to expose his feelings to her and suffer the consequences.

John B was right. This isn't healthy for them, nor is it healthy for them to put their friends through this along with them, and it might be better to not be friends than to stay this way forever. At least that way they wouldn't be wishing for answers that would never come for the rest of their time together.

She decides at this moment that this has to be said before it gets worse, before she runs away again like a scared, immature child and ruins everything.

"Because," she has to shout over the lightning that cracks down on the earth down the street, something she would be trembling in fear over if she weren't so focused on him, "I've been in love with you for a couple months and it scares me more than anything, even this stupid fucking storm! And I've tried so hard to ignore it because I know you don't feel the same way, but you touched me and I just"—a soft cry escapes her—"I couldn't do it anymore."

There it is.

After months of ruminating over it and hiding everything, he knows, and her immediate feeling after she says it isn't what she thought it would be. She expected trepidation and regret, but what she finds on the other side isn't either of those, it's relief. Her dad often tells her when she's nervous about something that the anticipation is worse than the thing itself, and that has never been as true her as it is now.

However, some of the nerves return with the time that passes after she spoke in complete silence. Much like the delayed reaction he had to her running out of the house, it isn't as long as it feels to her. It's a short span of time that it takes for her words to process with him, but it feels like an eternity that he stands there with his head facing the floor in quiet contemplation.

Her heart sinks.

This means he doesn't feel the same way, doesn't it? If he were the one telling her he loved her, she likely would've leaped into his arms and said it back, but he stays where he is.

Then, after what feels like forever, she thinks she sees him start to smile and feels like she's losing her mind. It's quite dark out here, so there's only a limited amount of light to allow her to see his features, but there's no doubting it when a flash of lightning floods the porch with a split-second of harsh light.

Oh God, why is he smiling? What does it mean?

Much to her frustration, the first thing he says after her confession isn't much help in making her understand his feelings either.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Why? The voice in the back of her mind asks incredulously. Is he seriously asking why? He ignored me too. He didn't want to talk about it either, so what else was I supposed to do?

Maybe she was undeniably worse when it came to the avoidance and lack of communication, but he could've reached out to her too. They both could've. Instead, they spent day after day waiting for the other to make the move and pushed the tension further and further until it finally broke. Now she's waiting for him to hurry up and reject her so she can move on with her life.

She shivers from the wind blowing at her wet skin through the screens separating them from the outside world, crossing her arms over her body to hug herself. His eyes follow her movements down to the breaths that are slowly evening out without her realizing it. It turns out that confessing your love for the guy you've been crushing on since the day you met him is a hell of a distraction.

"I thought you wouldn't wanna hear me being all emotional and shit over a one time thing. You've literally never had an actual relationship before. And that's fine," she rambles, "I'll be okay eventually, but that's not who you are and there isn't a problem with that. I just caught feelings when I shouldn't have."

In her defense, she isn't making baseless assumptions about him, he hasn't had a relationship before. His love life hasn't ever really revolved around love itself, it was mostly comprised of random chicks he'd meet at parties or at the beach during the summertime when tourists come to visit the island. Out of all of them, he's the last one the Pogues would expect to fall in love with someone and commit to a relationship, but then...

He looks over at her with a swell of emotion within him that he's never felt before. It wasn't like he hadn't known before now. He did. He even said it out loud to himself that morning after the party, but this is when it feels the most real. Now that she's said it to him, he doesn't feel so stupid for toying with the four letter word in the back of his mind for the entirety of the past week.

In all honesty, he was the last person he would've expected to fall in love with someone this quickly too. He thought he knew himself better than this. He thought he could keep himself hidden away and not let anyone close enough to see him—the real him, faults and feelings and vulnerability included—but she proved him wrong. In walked Y/N with her pretty smile, teeny bikini bottoms, and oddly strong opinions on Ratatouille, and he stood no chance.

This sudden crescendo of emotion only continues to grow when he watches her shiver, soaked to the skin, across from him and decides that he never wants to deny himself of her again. Those feelings of inadequacy that forced him to question his relationship with her may not have gone away, not by a long shot, but they can't stop him anymore. Nothing can.

Like a light flickering to life in this swirling, stormy darkness, she hears JJ's voice asking her, "What if it is who I am?"

It was said so softly, she nearly lost it beneath the rain and wind. But it was not said with a lack of certainty, which is why she questions if she heard him correctly. He sounded so sure of himself that it feels too good to be true. After his reaction, or lack thereof, to her telling him she loved him, she accepted what was coming and this was not it.

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

"You heard me." There's a pause. "Maybe I needed to meet the right girl."

There is no way he's saying what she thinks he's saying because if he is...if he is then that means the tears and frustration have all been for nothing because he loves her back. But if he loves her, then what was with the kook girl? Was it to make her jealous, or is she misinterpreting him right now and he was flirting with that girl because he doesn't have real feelings for her?

"JJ..." she trails off, looking down and thinking to herself how thankful she is that it's too dark for him to fully see how nervous he made her, "don't do that."

Partly, he should feel offended that she'd think he'd toy with her feelings like that, but he isn't. He's too busy wondering what on earth made this poor girl so insecure to think that someone has to be joking to confess their love to her. It makes him wonder if anyone wronged her before she moved here, and he feels that switch of impulsive anger inside of him flip at the thought.

But that anger has nowhere to go, so it shifts into something different—a need to spend every waking moment of the rest of their time together proving to her that she doesn't have to be so afraid. Does it make him a hypocrite? Probably. It wasn't too long ago that he was telling the Pogues how much he didn't deserve to be with her, but he doesn't see himself the same way he sees her. In his head, he has reasons to believe he doesn't deserve her love, but how could she ever think that herself?

He steps closer to her, the movement something so natural and unconscious to him that he doesn't recognize he does it until he hears her breath hitch in the back of her throat. They were already close enough to reach out and touch each other if they wanted to, yet now it's the kind of closeness that wipes the slate of her mind clean with nothing else but the thought of him there to stay.

He starts to say, "I'm not fucking with you, dude, I'm being serious—"

"Then prove it."

Oh.

The sound of his unfinished sentence lingers on the tip of his tongue as he blinks away his surprise at what she said, though it was less of a statement and more of a challenge. What the challenge is, he isn't too sure, but he thinks there could be a couple of meanings there.

The fire in her eyes when she looked up at him is one he recognizes very well, it stars in one too many of his daydreams that center around their secret night together. She rose to the occasion without fail and matched his chaos every time, and that steely-eyed stare is reminiscent of it.

Yet, the sexual undertone isn't the only part of it to be discovered. There's a clear meaning there for him to actually prove it, to put his money where his mouth is, grow a pair, and tell her how he feels with no room for confusion. No more miscommunication, running away, or insecurity getting between them, just a clear cut confession like hers.

His hand runs through his hair to sweep it out of his eyes and keep the wet strands from dripping down his face. It helps him see her a little better too, grounding him to the moment and calming him at the dimmed sight of her expectant, wide eyed gaze.

There were a million versions of this whenever he let himself imagine admitting it. He only let himself picture it on the worst days, days like the one two days ago when he went home to his dad, ending the night by cleaning his own cuts and inspecting his own bruises in his locked bedroom. He did it to distract himself from wanting to storm out of the room and finally kill the son of a bitch after years of suffering in silence.

JJ closed his eyes, shaking with anger, and dreamed of how he'd tell her. There were versions with long speeches that were far too sappy to exist outside of the realm of his imagination. There were versions with him burying the words between friendly jokes to play down the extent of his feelings too, but he thought it worked best in its simplest form.

So he puts it as simply as it gets, lips fighting a soft smile as he crosses the space between them and rushes in to kiss her. It's charged with an accumulation of the pent up love, anger, and sexual desire that has been repressed until now, resulting in something utterly explosive.

He stops for a second to whisper, "I love you too," into her parted lips, and she finally lets herself go at the sound of those words.

Forget that they've only known each other for five months, when you know you know. This is the real deal. This is the kind of feeling that possesses every accessible inch of her heart and she'd never be open enough to admit that to anyone but him at the moment, but neither of them minds that. It's such a new, rapidly developing feeling that they want to protect it and keep it close to them for the time being.

His arms twine around her waist, tugging her the last bit forward and leaving no space between their bodies this time. The sudden movement draws a sharp gasp from the back of her throat and sends her hands out to brace themselves on his shoulders. The sound of the gasp that disappears into their connected mouths only fuels him on more. It makes him more eager with how he touches her with his hands drifting down the plane of her back, one of which playfully slipping beneath the hem of her soaked shirt in a way that makes her smile into the kiss.

He knows exactly what he does to her. He can sense it in the small reactions that would often go overlooked if it were someone less familiar with her.

It's easy to tell by the way she completely surrenders herself to him, letting out these soft little noises she doesn't even realize she's making when he takes control of the interaction and kisses her like he's starved for it. In a way, he is starving for affection and attention from her. He never knew it was something he needed so badly until he got it, and now he never wants to go without having her again.

That's why it doesn't surprise him when she starts getting antsy after a moment or two, especially after keeping away from him for days.

Her hands run down the length of his chest over the soaked t-shirt, taking a quiet victory in how his stomach flinches inward in response to her exploring touch, and she could swear his next exhale trembles as she continues lower. Never once does she break the kiss, which, by the way, has gone past the point of being passionate and straight to downright needy, but her concentration does falter. The perfectly paced rhythm of her mouth moving with his is interrupted when she touches him over the fabric of his shorts.

Those plushy soft lips go on an exploration of their own too. Leaving him with the first opportunity to catch his breath in minutes, she dips her head beneath the sharp edge of jaw in pursuit of the sweet spot she remembers reducing him to a grabby, moaning mess the last time they did this. It doesn't take her long, not if the tightening of his arms around her and the satisfied hum of a moan she feels vibrate beneath her mouth has anything to say for it.

He loses himself in it for a second or two...okay, fine, maybe ten.

The separate sensations combined spark a flame inside of him that burns so hopelessly for whatever she'll give him. His mind sends him images of them together, both real memories from their first time together and imagined fantasies he only let himself visit in his dreams, and he realizes how thinly spread his self control has become lately.

First, it's the thought of her from last week, thoughts of her gasping, writhing, and begging beneath him that makes his cock throb under the teasing contact of her hand through his shorts. But then he's brought elsewhere. Then, though he hasn't thought of it since the day after the party, he thinks of the mix of jealousy and anger he felt when he saw Tyler with her.

He remembers being sane one moment and charging across the room like a madman the next. He remembers how it felt to watch another person's hands slip under her dress, how it felt to see someone else try to kiss her the way he had, and this raw wound of a memory is all it takes to spur him into action.

It happens so quickly, she doesn't even notice what's happening until he has her scooped up in his arms with her legs around his waist. She doesn't even have the chance to voice her surprise or crack a joke at the expense of his neediness before he reconnects their paused kiss with enough force to make her teeth ache in the collision.

JJ's rings are colder than ice, digging into the flesh of her thighs as he holds them with a tight grip and blindly takes the few steps necessary to reach the back entrance of the house. His wet handprint smudges on one of the cracked-open glass doors and sends droplets of water dribbling down the surface. The teardrop of rain zig-zags at the swinging motion of the door on their way in, only changing course again when he nudges it shut behind him a little too loudly.

"Wh"—her question is cut off by him laying her down on the rug-covered floor in between the couch and coffee table—"What if John B wakes up?"

His first thought was to bring her into the spare bedroom, but then he realized that it shares a wall with John B. Then, he considered the pull out couch but realized that would be louder than the room adjacent to their friend's. His only conclusion was this.

It isn't nearly as romantic as either of them would've pictured, but they're not exactly picky either. They're so desperate for it, they'd likely do it on the porch in the middle of a hurricane if there weren't another option. And in their own weird way, they make it romantic.

There's no one else she'd rather risk rug burn for, and that is the peak of romance.

"John B sleeps like a fuckin' rock," JJ says, "and it's own his fault for trapping us here anyway."

He follows her down onto the floor without a second thought, not even looking up to see if they woke their friend with the sound of the door shutting behind them.

Hovered above her, he looks particularly captivating in the flickering candlelight. The fire burning in one of the three-wick candles they scoured the bathroom cabinets for brings out the warm hues in his blonde hair and highlights every edge of the angular face that looks down at her. The porch was far too dark for her to see him in all of his near-perfection, but this is enough for her to notice a multitude of things.

His slicked back, wet hair allows her to see his features better and the way he looks at her...it's enough to make anyone feel red in the face. How hadn't she see it before? She knows it was denial, but, somehow, she used to overlook the small hints along the way like how he looks at her like she's the only thing that makes sense to him. For the first time in a while, she allows herself to embrace the idea of being loved without looking for something to justify her fears surrounding it.

The sound of her voice brings him out of the mesmerized trance he fell under at the sight of her.

"I've missed you," she says softly, "like a lot."

The sweet admission slows him down for a second, making him stop to ignore the distracting desire that she sparked to life a moment ago and take the time to cherish this moment of rare serenity with her.

It's a wonder that she hasn't even acknowledged the storm raging on outside since they've come back in. It's all thanks to him, of course, since she's been too focused on everything happening between them, but it surprises him. It makes a sense of pride flare up in him on her behalf for being capable of forgetting something she fears so much.

But, on the other hand, it reminds him of how distraught she was right before their conversation/argument on the porch shifted from her panic to the topic of their relationship, and he can't help but hesitate a little.

"I missed you too." The hand he isn't using to support himself above her cups her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. "Are you okay though? You were just crying and I don't wanna make you—"

"Yes."

It was so said so quickly, there was zero hesitation. It's not that it doesn't surprise him that she's as eager as he is after what started to happen out on the porch, but it does make his eyes widen a little. His mouth curls with a slight grin. It's the kind that never fails to make her stomach fluttering and light with butterflies.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm okay, and I promise I'll let you know if I'm not," Y/N clarifies.

"Okay."

There's a short moment where all they do is look at each other with a complete loss for words to convey what they feel right now. It isn't as awkward as it would've been prior to tonight. Before they confessed their feelings, they wouldn't have been able to look at one another for any longer than a few seconds without needing to walk away to break the tension. Now, things have changed. They don't feel the need to conceal how much they care anymore.

They're still the same bickering duo they've always been with the added fun of being head over heels. She never used to understand how some people could let their feelings for another person drive them crazy, but it's done more than make her crazy this past week. It made her jealous, obsessive, and somehow happy too, and no one has ever made her feel so many varying emotions in her life.

Her fingertips graze the stretch of skin between where his cargo shorts sit on his hips and his shirt rides up the side of his torso, and he swallows thickly at the feeling.

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

Her lilting, smooth voice is enough to soothe any nerves he could possibly have. It's as if hearing her ask that paired with the hand teasing the waistband of his shorts pulled him back to the place he'd been before when she was teasing him over his clothes.

He answers honestly, his head going fuzzy with the crushing desire that courses through him, "Not as nervous as I make you," and closes the space between them again.

The cheeky comment doesn't go unnoticed by her, not one bit. It makes her face heat up in embarrassment that is purely instinct after having to hide her feelings from her for so long. Maybe after they've been together for longer, it won't make her blush every time he acknowledges the effect he has on her out loud, but that day isn't today. Today, she goes hot in the face from a sole second of his attention, let alone this.

JJ lets his hand climb up the length of her torso as they kiss as if they have all the time in the world, as if their best friend isn't sleeping less than twenty feet away from them, until it flattens at the base of her neck. It doesn't curl around her neck and squeeze, nor does it do anything but remind her how much she loves the feeling of him touching her, the large palm of his hand simply stays draped over her throat to flaunt his ability to sway her nerves.

She's pretty sure if it were anyone else, it wouldn't work, but he's JJ for fuck's sake, and the quiet display of dominance sends an exhilarating little thrill rumbling through her. It isn't anything over the top or exaggerated like some people would do in an attempt to stake a claim over the person they love, just a simple gesture that they both know the meaning of.

She's his. After five months of friendship, two months of silent pining, and a week of sexually confused hell, she's his, and he'll never let her forget it.

The wind rattles the windows over the couch with its force and she notices that his hips grind into hers at the sudden sound. Even in the midst of such a heated moment, it's downright cute how he still makes an effort to distract her from what she fears. And, boy, does it work.

Their panting breaths in the brief seconds they allow themselves to break away from each other are the only sounds audible in the small living room. The storm drowns it all out for now, including the noises that start to leave them from the steadily building pleasure of their bodies moving together.

She can feel how hard he is through the layers that separate them with every absentminded thrust that brushes the fabric of her panties up against her clit each time. It leaves her breathless and wondering, despite already knowing, what it'll feel like when he finally slips inside of her again.

They both fantasized about it in the time they spent apart. Neither of them would dare deny it, least of all JJ. It actually became frustrating after a while because she started to become the only scenario he could conjure to get himself off when he had a rare moment of privacy. His fantasies, all stemming from the night that was so perfect, he began to question the reality of it, linger in his head.

The best part of his fantasies were the parts of them based in truth, and if he knows anything about her when she's in this state, it's that she's needy. Her tongue swipes along his bottom lip in a silent urging to let her deepen the kiss, and he complies without a second to spare, willing to entertain her every whim so long as she keeps being so good for him.

He revels in her muffled squeak of a moan when he presses down on the sides of her throat at the precise moment his hips grind down to meet hers. She can't keep herself still for any longer than a half-second, always meeting his movements halfway and unknowingly doing another thing that will be the death of him.

She leads his shirt up his body without having to second guess herself, knowing that he's always on the same wavelength as her no matter what. This was how it was the last time too. Anything she did, he was already one step ahead, and tonight isn't much different. By the time her hands ball up the dripping cotton fabric, JJ is lifting the hand off of her neck to reach for the neckline of the shirt and help tug it off.

There's a sense of urgency in everything they do. Charged up with frustration and jealousy that brewed within the days they spent apart, there's nothing to stop them from reducing themselves to a pair of panting, impatient lovers too consumed in each other to care about the outside world.

The sopping wet fabric is thrown beyond her line of sight and lands on the hardwood floor with a 'thwack' that accompanies their cacophony of moans and gasps, and she whimpers at the sight of him. It may have to do with the fact that he's guiding their bodies together at a cadence and pressure perfect enough to make her legs tremble, but seeing him like this does nothing but aid the sensation.

Golden skin glistening under the candlelight, tendrils of half-dry blonde hair falling into his face with the lazy effort of his movements, and a stray raindrop that squeezed from the wet shirt dripping down his chest...she's not gonna make it out of tonight alive, is she? In her memory, she knew he was a sight to see in the midst of a heated moment, but, fuck, memories do not hold up beside the real experience of it.

Y/N is so caught up in his seemingly endless beauty, she doesn't notice him peeling her damp denim shorts off of her hips until they're halfway down her legs, and the only reason she does notice is because he must shift his position to do it. Suddenly, the budding feeling that stirred from their needy antics is plucked away and left to ache for more in the absence of him between her thighs.

Her middle and index fingers hook around the front of his necklace to pull him back down to her, but he doesn't budge at first. He's too busy trying to rid her of her shirt to care.

It was too much of a distraction while they kissed for him to resist slipping it off of her when he got the chance to. Much to his frustration when he first realized they were trapped with each other, she's braless underneath, and it's only worse now that the t-shirt is soaked to her skin and clinging to every delicate curve.

Once the clothing gives way to the canvas of her bare skin, he submits to her urgency and follows her down by the fingers hooked around his necklace without any qualms.

As soon as they resume, it's as if they never stopped to begin with, and they start to realize how seamlessly they fit together as the seconds elapse. Neither of them are actively thinking about it while he dips his hand into the front of her panties, but it is in their subconscious.

It's a revelation of sorts, an ah-ha moment where it hits them both in a sweeping realization that it was obvious from the day they met. They should've known sooner, they should've dropped their pride and admitted it as soon as the first inklings of desire began to pop up, but they didn't. Instead, it washes over them now and they let the current take them away together.

Her mouth falls open against his cheek at the feeling of his fingers swiping through the arousal that pools in her underwear for him, dragging the wetness over his fingertips and spreading it up to brush fleetingly against her clit. It's a split-second of a touch that it makes her hips lift up off the floor on their own accord to seek out more. It makes her dig her nails into the skin stretching over his taut shoulder muscles in a wordless plea for more that he doesn't indulge her in at first.

He makes her earn it from him without having to say a single word. He touches her, but he doesn't touch where she wants or ease his fingers into her to satisfy the need she feels yet. It's a blessing and a curse that he manages to turn her on to such an extent. He does it for her like nothing else can, so much so that she's noticed a distinct difference in how it feels when she's alone versus when they're together. When she's alone, it can tend to feel like active effort, but when she's with him, it's as natural as the urge to breathe.

His smirk is felt against her skin the entire time she begs for it through the revealing actions of her body—her hips jerking up toward him, her chest pressing tightly to his, and the sound of her murmuring, "Please," in a breathy tone that could stop his heart.

"Tell me what you want," JJ says, every word constrained and tight in a way that tells her he's a lot less composed than he lets on, and "accidentally" swipes his thumb over her clit again. "Talk to me, baby."

She almost forgot in their time apart how much of an effect he has on her, but this is the best reminder of that she could possibly imagine. If she could, she would find a way to bottle the feeling he gives her and keep it with her forever so that, no matter what happens between them, she'll never have the misfortune of forgetting him.

What he said simultaneously melts her heart and frustrates her to no end because he knows! He knows damn well what she wants from him and won't give it to her unless she asks for it, and she hates herself for loving it. She hates herself for enjoying the flushed-face embarrassment it brings to her cheeks to be so open with him about what she needs.

She swallows the lump in her throat and tries to focus through the clouded landscape of her head to speak to him. It's hard to concentrate when he's above her like this, touching her, calling her pet names, and looking at her like that.

With his lips worshiping the sensitive skin along her neck, she finds it hard to choke out the words, "I want you," into the humid air that has infiltrated the house.

It's not a lie. Anything regarding her wanting him or any related feeling is no longer something she can hide anymore, but they both know it isn't exactly what he wanted. No matter how it took his breath away to hear her say it, he was seeking something more specific. He was aiming to make her ask, maybe even beg, for it. They're both too impatient to wait and based on how wet his fingertips are from barely dipping into her, he can tell she's as eager as he is.

It's been thirteen days too long since the last time they allowed themselves to meet this way, and neither of them wants to let it happen again.

She was nearly trembling with the urge to go to him whenever they were together in the company of their friends, unable to think about anything except for how badly she wanted him. All the while, he appeared so unbothered, especially on the night of the party when he flirted with someone else, that she didn't even believe he felt the same way back. Thankfully for her, she couldn't have been more wrong.

He clicks his tongue and says, still teasing her with light touches that never linger in one place for too long, "That wasn't very specific."

Part of her should know that he's about to do something based on how he withdraws his head from its cherished place in the crook of her neck, but she's too caught up in the anticipation and seeing his face for the first time in a minute to think about it. How dare he look so good? She could cry in frustration, although she might actually already be tearing up a little with the rush of neediness hitting her in its full force.

Never has she felt so turned on by so little physical contact before. It usually takes longer for her to get to this point, whether it be alone or in the past with previous partners, yet all it took was being kissed, touched, and being given his undivided attention and now...She realizes she's in trouble. He has her in an emotional and sexual chokehold at this point, and she fears that no one can compare.

"I want—" her voice is snuffed out in an instant when he eases two fingers into her, "Oh!"

So that's why he pulled away from her neck to look at her.

It was worth abandoning the mark forming on her neck just to see the expression on her face shift. She gets this cute look when anything overwhelming starts to happen where her brows scrunch a little to create a soft wrinkle between them as her mouth drops open in a moan. And after ten steady minutes of doing nothing but some over the clothes action and painstaking teasing, this is as overwhelming as it gets without it crossing the line to being too much.

It never occurred to her how much larger his fingers are compared to hers until now. This type of pleasure is like an itch only someone else can scratch to her, she feels virtually nothing when she does it to herself, but when he does it, it's like an explosive being set off inside of her. Especially with the thumb that sneaks up to circle her clit without stopping to tease her again, she is putty in his hands at this point.

Every smooth stroke of his fingers into her reaches a spot she can never quite find on her own, and she can feel the cold bite of rings when they're buried into her to the knuckle.

It's a surprise every time, even when she knows to expect it. Like a delightful chill running up through her body and down her spine exactly how it's intended to. It strikes an idea in her head for when he eventually pulls them out of her, conjuring the image of her sucking them clean for him just for the sake of imagining what it'll do to him.

With that idea tucked away in the back of her mind, he's the center of her world right now. All she breathes, thinks, and feels is him. Whether it be the sight of him, or the feelings he's giving her, or even the taste of his kiss that still lingers on her tongue, it connects to one common thread.

"What were you saying?" JJ asks, and she wants to wipe that smirk right off his face.

It's virtually impossible for her to piece together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence detailing every filthy idea she has for him, but she tries. It takes another moment or two of her succumbing to the rapid incline of pleasure that he gives her, watching her in wonder through any greedy buck of her hips or gasping inhale that makes her head loll back onto the floor.

At first, what she wanted to say was that she wanted him to touch her, to do anything more than the fleeting touches he gave before. Now, she wants more than that. Now that she's drawn in closer to the eventual high that's to come, she doesn't want it to happen like this. She wants to feel closer to him than this, wants to feel him throb inside of her and fuck her with all of the urgency and desperation that has accumulated in their time apart.

That's why her hands start to grab at the belt loops of his shorts to tug him closer by them, meeting his gaze through the hazy bliss of his fingers pumping into her. It's not enough.

"Please"—she keeps pulling him closer to her, so close that there's hardly any space left to cross, and he revels in her desperation—"just fuck me already..."

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

Though this was what he wanted, what he coaxed out of her with the teasing and the pretend sense of a nonchalant attitude on his part, it hits him harder than he expected it to to hear her say it. It's not necessarily the act of begging itself either, it's the fact that she's the one doing it. She may have been jealous of the girl at the party, but she had nothing to worry about. Not in the slightest.

Before her, he never thought he'd fall for someone this way. It's not like he had a hatred for love or anything, he understood the appeal, it simply wasn't his thing.

He was perfectly content with his only form of companionship being his friends. Then, she came along and changed it. So to hear her say something like that isn't just breathtaking, it's the kind of thing that makes his heart ache for her. It hits him precisely where she wanted it to, and he has never felt as consumed with love the way he does now.

JJ can do nothing to stop himself from pouncing on her at this point, like some animalistic form of himself has worn down the restraint he used to keep himself at bay.

The loss she feels when his fingers slip away from her is an emptiness she mourns at first before she realizes what's happening. He pulls away slightly to reach down between them for the front of his shorts, and their hands clash as they both frantically try to undo them together. The rings adorning his fingers glisten when they catch the light and remind her of the thought that popped into her head when she first felt their coldness against her skin.

That idea paired with the promise of what they're trying to accomplish in their uncoordinated attempt to get the rest of their clothes off makes her want to press her thighs together. Her hands abandon the task of undoing his shorts for the sake of ridding herself of the last layer that separates her from him.

Her most embarrassing old pair of brightly colored panties, courtesy of past Y/N's questionable decision to trust her mom to buy some on her behalf, are hardly a sight to behold. They're the kind that come in a value pack from Walmart, vibrant blue with the word, "Tuesday," printed on the front of them, and she could hide her face into the rug in shame if she weren't so determined to get them off. Of all the days to wear the day of the week undies her mom accidentally got her, of course she chose today.

By the time she reaches for the waistband, he has pushed his shorts and underwear down his thighs and comes back to her with just as much excitement as he left with, but when he helps her tug her panties down her legs, he laughs. Apparently, he had also been too eager to touch her to notice what was written on them before.

"Cute," he breathes out through a laugh, then adds as the cotton fabric slips over her knees, "Pretty sure it's not Tuesday though."

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

He cuts her off, "Whatever you wanna threaten me with won't work, chances are I'm gonna be into it."

Her eyes are alight with a certain fire he's had yet to fully lure out of her. Even her voice is slightly more airy and seductive as a result of it.

"Promise?"

JJ grins down at her as he finally tosses her panties aside with the rest of their clothes, "Cross my heart, pretty girl."

His hands grip her thighs and tug her down the  rug to him with a quick jolt that snaps them out of the playful nature of their back and forth teasing. No matter how lighthearted of an interruption it was, the mini-conversation might as well have never existed for how easily they fall back into it again.

She watches with her forehead pressed against his as he strokes himself a few times, then drags his tip, messy with precome, through her wet heat. And though she watches it happen, her body still arches into his when he lines up with her and sinks his hips forward.

She anticipated it, but she still gasps and digs her nails into his biceps at the sensation of him pushing into her. Neither of them bothers to worry about the obvious lack of a condom—it was discussed the first time around when he offered and she told him it was okay. He's often the one to silence the alarm on her phone warning her in its title to, "Take your birth control or else, bitch," while she searches her bag for it anyway, so he trusts her.

Both of them prefer it this way enough to risk the  minuscule failure rate of the pill anyway. It's more intimate, closer, and they can both feel the warmth of each other in a way that would've been somewhat muted with an added layer between them. It makes the feeling of him entering her all the more gratifying as she tenses up around him in reaction, drawing a groan from where his parted lips brush against hers.

She lifts her head off of the floor as much as she can to capture his mouth with her own and stifle the sonorous sound despite the storm doing a better job of it.

It seems that every blast of wind and roll of thunder is in their favor tonight, so much so that he isn't even worried about getting walked in on. It's not a thought in his head at this point, the only thought he's capable of having is this. Forgive him for being shortsighted, but he doesn't give a shit if John B notices or hears what's happening when he's buried inside of her so deeply.

His hips are flush with the backs of her thighs in a matter of seconds, and right when he pauses to give her a breather, he feels her shake her head ever so slightly against where their faces are pressed together.

The touch of her hands on his hips is not timid by any means, it's commanding. Her palm prints singe an indelible claim into the surface of his skin as she guides him to start moving without a second spared to dwindle the discomfort of him filling her up. It's less like a pain and more of a pressure blooming from the insistent presence of him, not so overwhelming that it's painful, but it's an effort to breathe evenly and the only thing that'll ease this transitional moment is to continue.

At first, their bodies start to rock together lazily as though on autopilot. They'd hardly be conscious of the fact that they're doing anything if not for the initial sensations of heady ecstasy that flash like the sparks of a lighter in response to their movements. As soon as he felt her hands coax him into action, he sighed happily and surrendered himself to the instinct of wanting to move.

The merging of their bodies is less of the aggressive rutting motions they'll surely succumb to once their current pace is no longer satisfying, but that doesn't make it any less intense. She's partly sure that this is one of the most vulnerable moments either of them has ever had when it comes to sex, and it wouldn't work if it weren't them together. No other person could consume her the way he does, taking up every unoccupied space of her soul until there's nothing left but the silent begging of her heart for him.

Their kiss is messy when it breaks to allow them the chance to suck down a couple breaths of air, saliva shining on his lips in between the seconds it takes them to come crashing back together.

It's loving enough to rot her teeth with its sweetness, a slow but impossibly deep grinding of their hips together that continually presses the tip of him into that sweet spot inside of her, but it takes a turn.

Not only do her hands shift from his hips up to the sides of his waist to get a firmer hold on him, the kiss starts to become vigorous, almost hungry, in search of something more. The dreamlike sequence of the first moment or so they spent slowly fucking under the warm hues of candlelight starts to unravel to reveal the baser instincts that guide them forward.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispers the praise into her mouth.

As soon as the words are said, he can feel the effect it has on her. The hands braced on his waist pull his body closer to her at the same moment that she involuntarily squeezes down around him, making the smooth drag of his cock against the velvet-soft heat of her walls even tighter than he thought possible.

The sudden feeling of it makes his first returning thrust much harder than the last. He jerks forward into her with none of the restraint he's retained for the past few moments, and her reaction is nothing short of perfection, at least from his perspective. He watches her throw her head back in a moan, hips bucking to him in pursuit of more, and feels the tips of her fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks into the unmarred skin along his waist.

"JJ!" she gasps in surprise, and if her initial reaction weren't enough to spur him on in a frenzied state of desire, this is.

He almost forgot how intense it had been the first time. Their confessions of love preceding this made them both somewhat softer and sweeter in their approach when they started, but he knows how she likes it.

Nobody would expect it from her. He's another story entirely, especially considering how much John B and Pope know about him, but her? He didn't have any in depth conversations about it with either of them, so none of their friends know how dirty she is.

But when you start to tease it out of her, she's got a side to her that makes his blood run hot. Considering how polite she is, he sure as hell didn't see it coming. For fuck's sake, she's the kind of person who'll apologize to a chair if she bumps into it. With that in mind he never thought she'd be the type to demand such things of him.

Just like that, with one moan of his name, it's like she flipped a switch in him that they forgot was there in the first place. It'll never stop surprising him how little it takes to get him going when he's with her, and he doesn't see that changing no matter how long they spend together in the future. Just a touch from her is all it takes, so it's needless to say that the sound of her calling out his name was more than enough.

Those slow, deep movements he made to sink into her again and again have turned rapid and rough, but still controlled enough to have a semblance of precision to them, hitting in all the right places.

"I bet," JJ speaks lowly, "that you want John B to walk out and see us right now."

She doesn't want to admit how much of an instantaneous effect those words have on her, but the feeling of her clenching around him as she bites back a moan completely betrays her. Partly, she worries that he'll take that the wrong way and think it has something to do with John B when it has nothing to do with him at all, but he doesn't. For the spare second of thought she's allowed to have before her mind goes hazy again, she notes how much more eager he is on the upstroke of the next thrust.

Noticing how right he was in his assumption about her liking the risk of getting caught jumpstarts his heart and makes everything he does rougher. She can sense that he's starting to lose control over himself and is acting on instinct alone.

It makes her much more sensitive to everything he does, and all she can do is cling to him and enjoy it as she takes in everything he says and does. It's hard to pick one thing to focus on between the switch up in pace and what he said.

"You want John B to know you like getting fucked like a slut, don't you?"

She could get off on the sound of his voice alone. Hearing him say stuff like that kills her, it makes the swirling bliss that builds in the pit of her abdomen with every thrust he gives her triple in its extremity.

Her legs are tightly wound around his hips to keep him as near to her as possible, her hands sliding up around his waist to keep a steady grasp on him while he pounds into her. The rug scratches at her back enough to make it sting alongside the immense pleasure building in her, but she doesn't care. When blended with the good sensations, the pain underscores the addictive feeling of him inside of her, fucking her exactly how she asked him too.

Looking up at him when he's like this is simply unreal. There's no other way of describing it in her eyes except for that. He's so stunning, she's inclined to believe that he isn't even real as a means of explaining it. This shouldn't be real. It should be one of her daydreams while she steals covert stares at him as they hang out with the Pogues, but it isn't. She can't wrap her head around it.

Those strands of hair that were damp from the rain are mostly dry as they fall into his eyes with the force of his movements. The sight of him alone, set aside from the rest of it, is enough to make her writhe beneath him and claw at his back in tandem with another thrust that sends her jolting against the rug.

He takes one of his hands up from where they both held her hips for leverage to weave his fingers into the roots of her hair.

He demands between the panting breaths and moans that flood the limited space between them, tugging on her hair, "Answer me."

She instantly blurts out the words, "I want him to see us." The feeling of him tilting her head back by the fistful of hair he has wrapped up in his hand is her persistent reminder to concentrate enough to continue, and she bites down on her lip to contain a moan before speaking again, "I want him to know..."

Her cheeks burn with the mere thought of it, let alone saying it out loud. He's the only person she'd ever let in on this intimate side of her, the side that makes her crazy when she hears him say stuff like this. The reason she feels so comfortable doing this with him is that she knows he understands her. It's as if he can read her mind without even having to try, knowing exactly what to say and when to say it.

It wouldn't matter if the topic of their exhibitionism were any other Pogue or a stranger, it isn't about who it is, it's about the thrill attached to the concept of almost getting seen during such a heated moment. In all actuality, John B is probably snoring face down into his pillow right now with no care for what's happening out here, but he knows what it does to her when they push the boundaries of decency this way. It's the same rush he gets from stealing random, useless things every so often, it's the thrill of getting away with something.

The hand tangled up in the roots of her hair sneaks down between their colliding bodies to rub her clit, and her mouth drops open to take in a shaky breath.

The sight of her beneath him is undoing in and of itself. Head tilted enough to expose her neck to him, chest rising and falling rapidly with her breaths, and breasts bouncing gently with the momentum of their actions—seeing her this way makes his thrusts ramp up into more of a frenzied, uncontainable pace rather than one with the same control and cadence as before. But it's mostly the eye contact that kills him. She doesn't dare to shut her eyes the entire time, as if she can sense that he'll tell her to look at him again the second she does.

"You want him to know what?" he asks, and she knows he won't let her get away with not saying it.

She whines, utterly helpless to the climax starting to build inside of her, "Please."

What she's pleading for, she isn't quite sure, but he can tell by how she's acting that she's starting to get closer, and he wants nothing more than to tease her with the impending chance of her orgasm.

"If you wanna come, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that."

Just like that, he withdraws his hand from between them and leaves her desperate, blindly grasping for the peak she was so close to reaching, she could almost feel it already.

With JJ rocking into her at a relaxed, slower rhythm, the pleasure hasn't disappeared completely. It's there, but she can sense the feeling of her orgasm receding as quickly as it had creeped up on her as soon as he slips his hand out from between them.

It's instantly clear to him how desperate she is as all of her previous shyness surrounding having to admit this to him out loud withers away in seconds. She isn't beneath begging again at this point. He could tell her to crawl across the floor to him and she'd happily do it for the chance of touching him. It's pathetic but true. As much as she has him wrapped around her finger, he has done the same to her and she isn't afraid to admit it anymore.

Her hips jerk toward him in search of the familiar frenzy they were in before that sent her to the brink of climax, but he is impressively stubborn. Despite the fact that it physically pains him to dial it back again, he tries to keep the signs of his own frustration at bay. She knew what she had to say to get what she wants, so he'll only cave when she does.

This time around, she doesn't give a fuck about how badly she blushes or the voice in the back of her mind telling her she should keep this side of her to herself. This time, the one thing she needs to do to prompt her to open her mouth and speak the dirty words he asked her less than a moment ago is look at him. One second of staring up at him and here she is, driven mad enough to say or do anything to get him to pick up where they left off.

She says between the soft noises and breaths coming from them both, clinging to him through every slow but deep thrust that sends sparks ricocheting through her body, "I want John B to know I like getting fucked like slut." Her voice is breathless, and he hangs off of each word as she pauses, looking up at him with a challenging attitude swirling in those pretty eyes. "So stop being a tease and fuck me like one."

His jaw clenches at the bratty statement, one he's too far gone to resist at this point, and right when he's about to respond to her, she speaks again.

"Either that," she says, and a deceptively sweet smile crosses her kiss-swollen lips, "or I can go ask him to—"

She doesn't even get the chance to voice the rest of that thought before he's set into motion.

The hands on her hips flip her over with such casual strength, all she can do is yelp in surprise at the sudden movement that blurs the living room in her peripheral version until she lands with her hands and knees pressing into the rug. He was so swift in pulling out of her and tossing her onto her front like she was nothing more than a rag doll, she hardly had the time to take a breath before she ended up here.

There's hardly any time between when he pulled out to flip her over and when he returns to her again, but it feels like an eternity for them. The few second transition might as well be a few years as she feels his hands guiding her body where he wants it, pushing down on her back until it arches just so, and falls down onto her arms. But as soon as she gets situated, she feels a pair of hands yanking her arms away from where they were braced against the floor and put them behind her back.

It's only then, when he has an unflinching grasp on where he keeps her wrists behind her back with one of his hands, that she is met with the relief of him sinking into her again.

Y/N's jaw goes slack, and she cries out into the rug that her cheek is pressed into as he gives her no chance to adjust or catch her breath before resuming the brutal pace they kept a moment ago. Mentioning anyone else but him doing this to her was the quickest way to get him to snap, so it's safe to say that she's getting what she wanted. After all, she did what he asked, it's fair that she gets rewarded for it.

Amidst the sounds of the storm waging war on the landscape outside of the house, the one thing she can hear over the buzzing pleasure that drowns out her senses is the sinful blend of sounds they create together. It's the sound of their bodies merging, his name falling from her lips, and the curses he makes under his breath that never fail to drive her a little wild.

The hand that isn't holding her arms behind her slides down the length of her curved back until it wraps around her throat to pin her down, and her reaction is everything he could ask for. Seeing her rock back against him to meet him halfway makes his grip on her wrists tighten enough to turn his knuckles white.

Her hair is spread in endless directions in a fan around her head, and he can only see one side of her face from where he kneels behind her, but that glimpse is more than enough. Brows scrunched in pleasure, mouth dropped open in a gape as soft 'uh's and 'ah's escape her on the upstroke of each thrust—she's a mess right now. A beautiful, perfect mess.

"Oh God, JJ," she moans between her rapid breaths and the strong hand constricting her neck, "I'm so close. Please, just let me come."

It took virtually nothing for her to be pushed right back to the edge of the peak she was at less than a minute ago. It took a mere half-minute of this and she's once again reduced to incoherent pleas for more and shaking with no control over herself. Her legs tremble with the effort to keep herself up in this position, and she isn't even the one doing most of the work. In all fairness, this change in position has made the intensity triple. It's deeper this way, and with how harshly he slams into her, it's as though she can feel it in the base of her abdomen.

It's the enjoyable type of pain, however, not the bad type. It'll surely end up with her being sore tomorrow, but she can't hide how much she loves the painful pleasure of how rough it's getting. Being denied an orgasm when she was so, so close to it was initially disappointing too, but it was worth it. If the build up to what would've been her climax before was a spark, this is a flourishing fire spreading through her with no chance of smothering the flames.

He lets go of her throat and taps the side of her jaw in a silent request that she picks up immediately, letting her lips fall open to suck his fingers into her mouth without a second of hesitation.

The taste of her arousal on them is faint, but still there, and it occurs to her that she thought about this earlier before things evolved into chaos. Her tongue swirls around the tips of his fingers as he starts to pull them away in what feels like the blink of an eye to her, leaving him to remember what it felt like when her lips were once wrapped around a more sensitive part of him a week and a half ago.

The one other time he let himself remember it was when they were on the boat with the Pogues, yet that wasn't really of his own volition. It was hot out, so Kiara bought ice pops for them and his mind wandered far from where it should've stayed.

Shining with her saliva, his fingers are pulled from her lips with a soft 'pop' in pursuit of that sensitive collection of nerves at the apex of her thighs. She just needs is a little push to go over the edge, and when he slips his hand down her body to rub tight circles onto her clit, she loses whatever remnants of control over herself she had left.

The steady rhythm of her hips moving back against him falters as she is overwhelmed with the separate sensations culminating into one and giving her the push she needs to come. Her entire body tenses up in anticipation, and since she's pinned to the floor with her hands behind her back, she can only lay there and savor the feeling as it hits her.

After what felt like ages of having it build and build within her, then having it taken away to start the process over again, finally being given a release is a relief beyond any she's felt before.

It's so consuming, it takes away her ability to think of anything outside of how it feels to dissolve into the shockwaves of euphoria rushing through her. Every pulsing wave is prolonged by him, not even through the peak of it does he let up on his precise touches and unforgiving thrusts into her that turn a typical orgasm into the most intense thing she's ever felt.

She's melting in his arms through it all, and as if the change in position didn't make it worse, her involuntary spasms leave him hanging on by a thread.

JJ collapses onto her, barely having the chance to keep himself propped up on his arms as he lets go of her wrists and falls forward onto her sweat-slick back.

The heat of his panting exhales raises goosebumps in its wake where his face is buried into the curve of her neck, and he whines at the impossibly tight feeling of her squeezing around his cock through the end of her climax. Those sounds he doesn't realize he's making have her writhing through the aftershocks, answering with a sound of her own that almost makes him come instantly.

For that reason, he makes the decision to pull out and flip her onto her back.

At this point, she's so dazed and fucked out that she doesn't register any of it until she notices the hollow absence of him inside of her, but it doesn't matter when his face appears through the partial darkness above her.

Despite how sensitive she is right now, the sight of him makes her hands reach out blindly to pull him closer again. They're frantic in their need to get back to one another, grasping and clawing until he finds his way back to her in less than a second, hiking her legs up around his waist with a touch that is somehow demanding and tender at the same time.

It's only when he's inside of her again that it occurs to her why he rolled her onto her back again, and it makes her want to kiss him until her lips turn numb. It may be undeniably hotter to pin someone down and fuck them hoarse, but, no, that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be able to look at her, to see her face, and the thought of that has her biting back a sudden confession of love. She isn't sure why she doesn't say it right away, since it isn't like they haven't already done it, but she keeps it to herself for a second first.

It's different now. It's not less passionate or frenetic. It isn't as if he isn't being as rough with her as he was before, but they can both sense a shift in the energy between them as soon as he reenters her. It's less about the pursuit of pleasure and more about the feelings they've kept hidden away for so long. It's a simultaneous realization that hits them a little late after they initially confessed their feelings for each other: this is reality. It's real, and when she touches him this time, he isn't going to disappear if she opens her eyes.

The realization of what happened tonight had yet to hit them until right this second, but now that it has, they move forward with a sense of sentimentality that remained partly dormant before.

If there's anything JJ dislikes, it's being vulnerable. The idea of letting someone in to see every part of him, including the parts he doesn't want to see of himself, has always terrified him after years of being made to believe he's undeserving, yet he isn't uncomfortable right now. Somehow, he feels safe with her. Sex has never been something so emotional for him until now, until her, and he doesn't want it differently.

Their bodies are drawn in close, her arms thrown around his neck, and he's so close, he can feel the muscles leading down past his lower abdomen contract with the inevitable approach of his orgasm. She can sense it too in how he acts.

When he gets close, he becomes clingier and lets his feelings get the better of him. His hands squeeze at her hips, sliding up her sides and back down to hike one of her legs up high around his waist to press deeper into her. He can't bear to allow his touch to stay in one place for too long before exploring another part of her, wanting to memorize the delicate intricacies of her body in its entirety.

It's as if she can read his mind too, cause even when she's sensitive enough to gasp when he pushes her thigh to her chest and throws his remaining energy into fucking her at a satisfying pace, she understands what he needs. She knows to reach up and run her fingers through his hair, to tug on it gently until the light strands are taut from his scalp. She knows to lift her head off of the floor enough to trail tender kisses along his face, his jaw, his neck—anywhere she can access.

"Come for me," she says into a kiss placed on the edge of his cheekbone, reeling in overstimulation as she jolts with his quickening thrusts, "I want to watch you..."

Hearing those words, paired with the kisses and fingers pulling on his hair, does it for him. It doesn't take more for his hips to falter and jerk forward into her a final few times before he comes.

Their foreheads press together as they cling to one another for stability, though it's mostly JJ clinging to her while she watches in adoration, and she has to bite her lip to contain a moan at how it feels. The aftershocks of her orgasm have yet to fade as the feeling of pulsing warmth inside of her makes them stronger, reigniting the fire she felt a moment ago if only for a second.

There's a closeness to this situation that they hadn't felt the last time, and they know it has everything to do with what was said before this happened. The sex itself feels like a dream sequence in her mind now that she's coming down from it with him, moving together slowly and gently beneath the candlelight until they ride out the ends of their highs. It was like they were put under a trance by each other, and now that it's over, the first thoughts that come to mind are of what comes next.

It's not the sole topic on their minds though. They're more focused on catching their breath from where they lay, tangled up together, on the living room floor. As soon as the very last of his orgasm faded from him, he fell onto her without a single ounce of energy left to spare. He's careful not to crush her, but, for the most part, he relaxes on top of her and lets his head rest on her heaving chest.

Strong arms slip down to loop around her waist, and she sure that she couldn't get him to release her if she wanted to, which she doesn't.

But they can't stay like this, not for any longer than a few moments anyway, since they don't know how if John B might wake up and come out of the safety of his bedroom after hours of leaving them to their own devices. JJ was right. He's out cold, but for as much as it turned them on in the heat of the moment, neither of them finds getting caught by him as hot with the clarity of their rational minds coming back to them.

He's the one to break the silence.

"As much as I wanna stay like this, we should probably move in case John B wakes up."

The sound of his voice settles in her with the effects of a sedative. It calms her more than anything else could, especially with the added comfort of him cuddling her so closely. One of her hands strokes through his hair and pushes the damp tendrils of sunshine away from his face as he cranes his neck to look up at her. And, for fuck's sake, what else is she to do except admire him?

His cheeks are dusted pink in a way they often are when he spends too much time outside without one of his hats shielding his face, and she thinks he's never looked better.

Ever since they became friends, she's had this theory about him. In the unrealistic landscape of her overactive imagination, JJ didn't come to this world the way the rest of them did. To her, it seems impossible that someone so good, even in his worst moments, could've come from someone like his dad.

So, in idle moments where she would watch him on a day out with the Pogues or daydream about him, she decided that he's the sun.

She imagines he was created in those breathtaking but brief moments where the sun meets the horizon atop the ocean and washes the sky with a vast array of colors. She likes to think he's the incarnation of it. Golden, warm, and bright for everyone but himself, he keeps the world light for her and their friends without intending to.

Some days are warmer than others too. Some days, the light is dimmed by another bruise beneath his clothes or a bad run-in with some kooks, but today is not like that. This moment is eighty-five and sunny with a balmy breeze. Looking at him right now feels like basking in the sun, and she'd burn here forever if he let her.

Without realizing she zoned out, she jolts when he pinches her arm to rouse her from her ridiculous thoughts. He has this dopey half-smile on his face that nearly draws her back into them again.

"You know what they say," he says, "if you take a picture..."

Her soft laughter invades the room, filling his heart with this light, fluttery feeling that always finds him when she's near. His smile grows as she playfully shoves him and reaches above their heads for her wet shirt to cover up with just in case. Odds are, their friend isn't waking up at the exact moment before they seclude themselves to the spare room and get dressed, but she doesn't wanna take that chance.

"I wasn't staring."

She was totally staring. But who could blame her? When someone looks at a person the way he looks at her, how could they ever stay away?

"Whatever you say."

JJ keeps smiling to himself while he pulls his underwear and shorts up his legs and waits for her to be decent enough to sneak past John B's bedroom to the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

The clothes are soaked through with rainwater, so they feel quite uncomfortable to slip back on, but they merely redress enough to be covered. She stole his shirt to avoid putting her shorts back on, the hem of the grey tee hanging right at the tops of her thighs when she walks. As soon as she slips her panties back on and picks up the rest of their cold, wet clothes, that's the cue he needs to scoop her up and take her away.

Y/N curses under her breath in surprise at feeling her feet being plucked off the ground, but she relaxes again once she's settled in his arms, realizing that it was just him who snuck up behind her and lifted her into his arms.

She doesn't say anything on the way to the bathroom. Instead, she lays her head on his shoulder in exhaustion and finds herself staring at the mark she left behind on his neck.

It's a deep, purplish red against the backdrop of his tan skin...the Pogues will surely notice the next time they see him. And while it will make her blush, it won't make her scared as it once would've. There may be a lingering sense of doubt and insecurity within her, but she wants this with him. Even if it means being teased by their friends or dealing with the jealousy of watching kook girls and tourons at parties hit on him, she wants this.

By the time the shower is spraying the rainwater from her hair and washing her clean of sweat sticking to her skin, she realizes that he isn't saying anything either, but she doesn't think it's out of any awkwardness or miscommunication. There's truly nothing to say, at least for now.

Though they didn't have the chance to talk in depth about everything yet, neither of them thinks of that right now. All they know is that they're together, whether it be officially or not, and it feels good. For once, something in his life feels right, and he lets himself enjoy it in silence.

The shower is a cramped space when shared between them and the wet clothes they have draped over the back edge of the tub, but they make it work. It's not like they mind anyway.

They bump into one another whenever they do so much as breathe, and the white walls echo the sounds of her giggling when he tries to tickle her. She leans her head back against his chest and lets out a laugh with shampoo dripping down the front of her face, and he'll be damned if he ever heard a sound as intoxicating as that.

It's a little weird. He's never been as soft and loving with a person before, and he has already felt overwhelmed in the lulls of quiet between them when he's given the chance to think about it.

When she washes his hair for him, insisting that she must return the favor after he so kindly washed hers, he was struck with the same mixture of wanting to simultaneously lean into and pull away from her that he felt the night of the party.

The warmth of the water loosens his sore muscles, washing suds of the green apple scented shampoo over his shoulders and down, down, down until it circles the drain beside his feet. All the while, her fingertips are delicately tracing over a healing bruise on his torso. Those pretty lips of hers are painted in a suppressed frown that she can't hide from him.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

His instant reaction is to fake a smile, to brush it off and distract her as he usually does, yet he doesn't. He forces himself to remain neutral and not push her away.

"Happens all the time," he murmurs, shrugging and averting his eyes to reach for the soap off on the ledge.

The hands holding either side of his waist tighten as he tries to turn, pulling him back to her with more strength than he knew to anticipate from her. Their chests gently collide back together beneath the stream of water, and she can feel his breathing catch for a second or so in response.

The fact that their relationship has changed doesn't change how she handles this aspect of his life. Their new confessions don't have an impact on the part of his life he never wants to let anyone see, so she isn't going to force him to talk about it because they're trying out this whole relationship thing now. He has hard boundaries that she knows not to push sometimes. That's the way it is, and it might change as they grow closer but she knows to accept it for the moment.

As soon as he hears what she has to say next, he could crumble in relief at the realization that their new dynamic doesn't change anything.

"I didn't necessarily mean...that...I meant generally, you know? It's just that—" she sighs, "you shrink away a little when I hold you, and I wondered if I was making you uncomfortable."

Before she could finish the sentence, JJ was already thinking of what to say to prove her wrong, because that's not it. That's not what it is, and if she thinks she's done anything wrong, he'll do anything to convince her otherwise because it isn't her. It's him.

It's his dad lingering in the darker trenches of his mind, commanding his fear and attention so that even when he isn't physically present, he's still here. Part of why he denied wanting her was because he knew these types of things would arise in the beginning, that there would be difficult adjustments to make and conversations to be had, and he didn't want her to leave him as soon as she was faced with one of these things.

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

The feeing of her chest rising and falling with his begins to steady him after a moment of allowing the initial hesitation to dissolve. His internal reaction to her touch is the mental incarnation of a flinch. It's him waiting for the other shoe to drop and expecting her to do something, to hurt him, before his mind catches up with his heart. But once he realizes everything's okay, he loves it.

"It's kinda embarrassing, but I guess when you touch me, I'm expecting something else," he says softly, scared that if he speaks too loudly, everyone in the world will know how weak he feels.

She should've figured, but hearing him say it is different than wondering what the reasoning behind it is. Hearing him admit it after months of strict avoidance on the topic is a sucker punch to the gut.

Both times they had sex, he was too distracted and thoughtless to get caught up in that part of himself, but it's when the bliss of the afterglow disappears that it creeps back in. That's why he could always handle touch when it came in that context. It was his way of obtaining what he wanted without having to face this side of it—a temporary fix to a greater web of issues.

But there's nothing temporary about her. He doesn't want her to leave him, not without him resisting the urge to beg her on his knees to stay and at least remain his friend, so there's no choice but to face these momentary challenges head on.

She pauses for a second, thinking, then says, "You don't have to be embarrassed about it, I get it. We'll just have to take it day by day then. We can take it slow, and you'll let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?"

It's hard not to be shocked by how well she's taking it. A lot of people probably wouldn't feel too great after someone they love tells them they expect to be hit whenever they touch them, yet she's taking it in stride.

Things are back to normal as soon as she sees the grin on his face.

"So, you're saying you're gonna be trying not to throw yourself at me all the time?" JJ asks, then clicks his tongue as though in thought. "I give you a week. Tops."

Her eyes go wide as she looks at him. She holds her hand over her heart as she pretends to be scandalized by such an accusation, but they know it's true. They both can't keep their hands off of one another, which is why it confuses him. How can he want to reject and enjoy her touch at the same time? Sure, the discomfort disappears after the first split-second, but the fact that it happens in the first place annoys him to no end.

She rolls her eyes and tries to hide the fact that she's giggling as she reaches for the soap.

"You're a little shit, you know that?"

He doesn't miss a beat, saying back, "Yeah but I'm your little shit, so I feel like that says more about you than it does me."

While he's too busy rinsing the rest of the shampoo out of his hair, she smiles to herself at what he said.

Hers.

Nobody has ever been hers before, or proclaimed themselves as belonging to her as proudly and casually as he just did, and her heart melts over the sweet sentiment he didn't think twice about.

Less than a day ago, she was agonizing over her relationship with him and trying to ignore how powerful those feelings for him were, and now they're here. She no longer has to steal glances when he looks away or hide how jealous she feels when other girls flirt with him. To finally let the tension disappear is an immense weight off of her shoulders.

The rest of the shower is as quiet as the start of it was, and that comfortable silence continues through from when they're drying off and redressing to when they hit the mattress in the spare bedroom with tired sighs.

After the day they had, the mere suggestion of sleep is enough to make them start yawning, so being able to slip beneath the sheets and rest their heads almost sings her to sleep instantly.

Their bodies are laying in the exact outlines of where they laid the night of the party, the only difference this time being their mindsets. This time around, they aren't holding themselves back from anything, and it's most evident in the little things. Like how she doesn't turn around to shield her face from him, instead laying with her head propped on the other end of his favorite pillow.

They're so close, their noses brush if they make any slight movements, and this would be enough for him to submit to the urge to drift into sleep if not for the fact that he feels her jolt when thunder rumbles loudly outside of the window.

Much like his own fears being pushed to the side amidst their desire for each other, her anxiety about the storm wasn't on her mind until they laid down to sleep.

She was so wrapped up in him and everything that happened between them that she didn't have the time to think again until now, until she hears the violent patter of rain against the roof and feels her stomach drop at the sound of the thunder. Suddenly, she's not the one reassuring him about his fearful reactions, it's the other way around.

His warm hand takes hers, snatching it up as though he's worried it'll disappear if he doesn't take it quickly enough, and she lets him. Her eyes flutter shut with the release of a slow, deep breath, and she lets the presence of his hand in hers bring her back to earth.

JJ asks into the darkness, "Can I take you out on a real date?" After a beat of silence, the comforting sound of his voice returns to her. "Not that this isn't fun, but I think you deserve a little more effort than John B's living room floor."

A short-lived chuckle escapes her—a win as far as he's concerned. It's difficult to lure her head from the clouds when she gets this way, and it isn't like he has much experience with calming her during these moments either, but that sounded good to him. It sounded like she wasn't thinking about the increased pace of her heart or the howling wind outside.

He was planning on asking anyway. However fitting of a first night together this was, he wants to take her out for real sometime soon. He doesn't have much money for it, like at all, but they can come up with something special together, even if it's similar to the same shit they usually do together. As long as it's time alone together, they don't necessarily care if it's a perfectly traditional first date.

The tip of his thumb rubs comforting circles onto the back of her hand in the brief time it takes her to respond, stroking the soft skin as if to tell her that everything's okay. It seems to say, I'm right here. Nothing can hurt you. And it might make her crazy, but she believes him. JJ could take her back out into the eye of the hurricane at this very moment and she'd still believe his unspoken promise of not letting her into harm's way.

"Of course," she says, then pauses, and the sound of her sleepy voice hardly reaches his ears when she speaks again, "...I'm sorry I avoided you for the past few days. I was scared to tell you how I felt but I shouldn't have left that morning."

The memory of waking up in his arms is fresh in the forefront of her mind, so much so that she can remember the way his breath felt where it exhaled in warm puffs onto her skin.

In the first few moments of consciousness, it was peaceful.

She laid awake for a minute or two to count his breaths and soak in the comfort of being cuddled up next to him, wishing she could stay there for hours. It wasn't until another moment passed that it clicked with her where she was and what was going on between them recently, and that was what prompted her to slip away from the bed to get ready for her day at work.

It was the second time in a row that she left him in that bed with nothing to wake up to but the cold absence of her body between the sheets he slept under, and he can't deny that it's part of why he holds onto her hand so tightly tonight. Even though she's promised him otherwise, he can't help but think she'll be gone by the time he wakes up. At this point, he's struggling to stay conscious. She can see those pretty eyes drooping more and more by the second, yet the hand holding hers doesn't loosen its grip.

He takes a deep breath and scoots closer to her, keeping his one hand in hers while the other arm drapes itself over her waist, and he can feel her relax into the touch.

"It's okay," he says.

It's easier for him to adjust to so much physical contact when he's the one initiating. He knows that's why she only reached out to hold his hand. If she had it her way, she would've already been cuddling with him as soon as they laid down, but he likes that she gives him the space to initiate it. In the ways it counts the most, she cares about him more than anyone else has.

The touch in itself is his way of accepting her apology. However, truth be told, he already forgave her for it before knowing his love was reciprocated could be a possibility.

Right when she's about to fall asleep, the screen door slamming open and shut with the wind on the back porch makes her whip her head around to look over her shoulder in the direction of the sound. It seems like every time he successfully distracts her from it, the storm finds new ways of reminding her of what's happening outside of the safety of the Chateau.

There's the sound of a barely audible, sharp inhale, then her whispering into the dark room as she looks at the closed door, "I can't believe I went out into that. What the fuck was I thinking?"

It's beginning to close in on her again; the sounds of the storm, the sense of being trapped no matter how safe they truly are, and the rising tidal wave of anxiety that picks up speed the more she tries to will it to stop. This is the part where she tries to relieve it in some way, usually by smoking weed to sleep or going to one of her parents so they can help her through it, but she can't help herself right now.

Debris was being picked and tossed around in the wind like it weighed nothing when she was out there, she could've been knocked into the marsh or struck by a piece of debris.

How could she be so stupid?

Not only could she have hurt herself, she could've hurt JJ knowing that he'd likely follow her out into the storm to bring her back inside, and the thought of him being hurt makes the tension in her chest heavier. Her breathing picks up speed, the anxiety starting to snowball out of control when—

"Hey, look at me," JJ says, reaching up to turn her head to face him, and she damn near crumbles in relief at feeling his hand cup her cheek. It doesn't make it all disappear, but it provides a momentary comfort that she doesn't take for granted. "You're safe here. You know damn well I'll do anything to protect you. I mean, shit, dude, if I have to go out there and tell that rain to fuck off, I will."

This draws out a laugh from her, chest stuttering with the happy sound through the tears glistening in her eyes, and he never wants to stop hearing it. His thumb swipes away the first teardrop that falls before it can slip over the apples of her cheeks. I'm Her quiet cries and shaky breaths continue for a while after the laughter disappears. For a second or two, he watches with his thumb still wiping her tears away and hopes that it'll be enough to comfort her, but it can't do it completely.

He pulls away from her to get up from the bed with an idea popping into his mind, but upon hearing her whine at the loss of contact with him, he pauses to say, "I'll be back quick, don't worry."

The remaining humorous side of her left wonders if he's actually gonna go tell the rain to fuck off, but he's just opening the bedroom door to trot out into the living room.

A candle burning on the coffee table illuminates the space for him, guiding him straight to the forgotten backpack she left slumped against the arm of the couch hours before their relationship was changed for the better. It takes him an instant to get there and back with the bag in hand, and he's digging through it for a second before climbing back into bed with her.

If anyone else rifled through her bag, sifted through her personal belongings, and dug her phone out of it, she'd probably be annoyed, but she never is with him. She's inherently protective of her things, but JJ can do whatever he wants and it has always been that way. It should've been the first warning of what was to come.

He pulls the sheet back over his body and scoots up close to her, trying to resist the urge to retreat at first when he maneuvers her to lay with her head on his shoulder. It should trigger the flight or fight response that often alarms in his head, but he's able to push it away.

She's so vulnerable right now, so gentle and in need of the warmth of another person that he isn't as intimidated. It's not that she couldn't hurt him if she wanted to right now, she could, but he knows her. He knows that the last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt him, so he has to remind himself of that and give himself the permission to enjoy the physical intimacy of her touch. The part of him that questions if he even deserves it can't reach him now, not when he's so focused on her.

"Thumb?" he asks with the phone held out expectantly.

The screen is less than two inches from her face, so she has to push it back slightly, but she flattens her thumb to the button without further hesitation.

When he unwraps the pair of headphones from around the palm of his hand and plugs them into the charging port, she realizes why he left in the first place.

When she was facing away from him, eyes shut and headphones in to distract herself with music earlier, he was stealing glances at her every so often. He tried to keep away from her for the most part. It was difficult though, especially knowing what she said about being jealous the night of the party and knowing how scared she was of the hurricane. He couldn't help but keep an eye on her, for both his own selfish needs and his worry for her.

He keeps an arm tucked around her, pressing her body into his while he pops one of the headphones into her ear and the other into his. The thing is, her eyes aren't trained on the screen like his are once he starts looking through her vast collection of not-so-legally acquired music for a song that suits both of their tastes, they're trained on him.

Their taste in music tends to diverge in certain ways and overlap in others, so there's always a fifty/fifty shot of him liking what she plays when she's the one picking the music. That is why he smiles to himself and halts the endless scrolling in its tracks to hover his thumb over one song.

He obviously heard it before she played it that one time, but it's different for him now. They were riding together in the backseat of the Twinkie on the way to the beach with John B, Kie, and Pope when they let her take her turn to play a song.

That's how it is with them, the driver goes first, then it goes to the front seat passenger, and so on and so on until they make their way back to the beginning of the rotation. It was her turn when she picked this song, and it could've been the song, or the sunset shining through the window, but he felt as though his heart exploded when he looked at her in the middle of it.

He remembers feeling confused, confused as to why he couldn't catch his breath and why he suddenly adored the song he only heard casually a couple of times.

It was her. It was everything about her. The soft hum of her voice murmuring the lyrics, too shy to actually sing them in the presence of anyone else, was too delicate for the others to appreciate over the sounds of the van. He heard it though. He clung to it and admired her, so unashamed in his staring that he didn't realize he was doing it. It wasn't until she noticed that he stopped.

"Do I still have ice cream on my face or something?"

Her fingers came up to wipe at the corner over her mouth, and the action sent him turning his attention away quicker than he knew he could move, pulling the lighter out of his pocket to fiddle with as he mumbled, "Yeah, but you got it off now."

The cheery melody of Just Like Heaven bursts out of each headphone into their ears.

How did he know? How is he constantly reading her mind without realizing it?

This was her first song on the couch that she couldn't stand to sit through without thinking, naturally, of him when confronted with the topic of love. Somehow, it's like he knew that, and instead of feeling exposed and scared he'll know her feelings like before, she feels loved.

She is never skipping this song again.

"Go to sleep," he murmurs, clicking the screen off and resting it on his stomach.

It takes him a short thirty seconds to fall into an easy, calm pattern of breathing that tells her he isn't asleep, but soon will be. But she's fighting her sleepiness to continue looking at him. His eyes are fluttered shut, hair messy on the pillow, and she'd want to reach up to kiss him if he weren't trying to fall asleep.

Instead, she settles for matching her quickened breaths to the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand and shuts her eyes along with him.

By the time the song reaches its end, she thinks he's asleep, but she still whispers, "Thank you," and feels his arm squeeze around her body in response.

The next songs fade into white noise at this point for her, drowning out the storm to the point where she begins to forget it's happening out there.

Maybe they can be each other's safe place when things get rough. After all, he handled this wonderfully considering his lack of experience with her anxiety and she never pushes him on his plethora of unsorted issues, even when she wants so badly to be the one to initiate the touch.

She never makes him think she pities him, or wants to "fix" him like so many partners with savior complexes who will never try to understand how it feels often do in these situations. With each other, maybe it doesn't have to be so complicated anymore, even when they have those inevitable arguments here or there.

The last thing he does before allowing himself to be dragged under is brush his lips on her forehead in a tender kiss. And when he eventually wakes to the rising sun shining through the windows in the aftermath of the violent hurricane, she's still there.

Tag List: @jjjmaybank, @its-simply-fanfiction, @naughtydild0swaggins.

[firefly-in-darkness]

Separation, Connection - [1/2]

Pairing →Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters → Marvel Characters

Summary → Your friendship with Bucky deterioates when you catch him in a compromising position with a fellow agent.

Word Count → 2.3k

SSB2021 Square Fill → “God I hate you” - @star-spangled-bingo

AFG Square Fill  → “What the fuck am I seeing?” @anyfandomgoesbingo

Warnings → 18+. Angst, Heartbreak, Jealousy, Swearing

Betas → @kalesrebellion // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → This one was sitting in my WIPs folder for ages, and after brainstorming with @writethelifeyouwant, this 2 parter was finished! Ps. I know I haven’t updated Worst Idea Ever in a while and I’m sorry - I’m just very stuck with it atm, the plot and majority of the story is planned out, I just can’t seem to fill in the blanks.

Firefly’s Masterlist

You and Bucky were close, and there was that little thin line between friendship and something more. Nothing had happened but, god, you had wanted it to. The secret crush you harboured for your teammate, your friend, had only grown over the years. Everyone thought you would be good together, commenting on how well you got along, that friendship was an important part of a relationship. Both of you rolling your eyes and laughing at their comments.

When you finally gathered the courage to tell him how you felt, you saw him with someone else. They were at the back of the training facility; the team were in a simulation of a terrorist attack on Paris and once the time on the training session was called, you stumbled across them.

They were just out of sight, hidden in a dark corner. And it wasn’t just a casual embrace. They were having sex, he was fucking her, hard, up against a wall. You froze at the sight of his bare bottom clenching with each thrust and the blissed-out look on her face. What the fuck am I seeing?! Heart shattered, you fled from the room without a sound, not wanting to disturb them or for anyone to see you crying.

It hurt too much to be as close to him after that, you consciously decided to withdraw from the friendship. Not going straight to him when entering a room or staying in bed instead of heading to the rooftop where you’d usually wander at five in the morning to talk with Bucky, putting the world to right.

And of course, Bucky noticed. It had been a week since you had joined him for a midnight chat in the kitchen. He was missing his best friend. He wanted to share his life with her, and she was nowhere to be seen unless someone else was in the room. 

Bucky knew it was a bad sign when you chose to sit next to Wanda, not sandwiched between him and Nat, on movie night. He felt alone in a room full of friends, as they watched a film about a love triangle set in England. It was supposed to be funny, but Bucky didn’t hear the jokes, let alone the punchlines. 

Nat had realised something was wrong too. She saw the dark circles under your eyes when you drained the coffee from the cup in the morning and the puffy redness from crying in the middle of the day. She had detested the way you and Bucky were before, it was like a pair of magnets drawn together, a connected ribbon, a gravitational pull. But now? Well, you were repelling within a few meters of one another, and she hated that even more.

“What did you do, Barnes?” Nat whispered harshly, eyes still on the film.

“Nothing.” Bucky looked over to you, sleeping with your head resting on Wanda’s lap.

“So why is Wanda looking at you like that?” She raised an eyebrow.

Bucky lifted his gaze, saw the fiery red eyes staring back at him as she stroked your hair, a soft red mist falling over you. He frowned at the Sokovian and tried to talk telepathically but she shook her head and looked back at the television.

On autopilot, you ran from your room to his bedroom door, knocking until the screams died down. Long ago, you’d learnt to not enter the room until he’d settled down, had the bruises to your neck and dealt with the guilt-ridden expression on Bucky’s face for weeks.

Pressing your ear to the door, you could hear Bucky moving about and slowly pushed it open so as not to startle him. A soft glow from the lamp at his bedside welcomed you in, he'd stacked his pillows against the headboard with his knees drawn up and resting his head in his hands.

“Hi, Buck. It’s me.” You spoke softly, his head and eyes shot up to meet yours.

You walked over and sat at the end of the bed, averting your eyes to the floor and fingers fiddling with the edge of a blanket, waiting for him to respond.

“What did I do doll?” He croaked, fingers running through his hair, his knees dropping down.

Your heart raced and you were certain he could hear the harsh thumps, but your voice remained steady, “It's nothing, just need a little time to process some things.”

“You normally come to me. What's different?” His voice was strained, thick with distress.

Standing up, you walked towards the window, arms wrapped tightly around your torso. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, but you remained focused on the navy sky fading to blues and oranges with the sunrise.

“I can't this time Buck, I need space. I need space from you.” With each word, your heart fractured along the lines you’d attempted to piece together with being away from him.

“Get out then, just leave me alone.” His tone was now harsh, stronger than before.

“God, I hate you.” Without a final glance, you left the room. Your heart in tatters once more.

Once in the safety of your room, the sob heaved out of you. Bucky had disregarded you so easily, he let you go without a second thought. And you didn’t know what was worse; what you saw a week ago or what he just said.

Bucky finished his 76th lap when someone caught his eye. It was you. His best friend. The one he stupidly let go of. It had been three months since he'd told you to leave, and you hadn't gone back on his word.

Of course, Bucky was just as stubborn and hadn't approached you unless it was work-related. But there was something different about you. His eyes focused on the man you were standing with, and how you glowed, and Bucky just couldn't stand that you were feeling that way about a random recruit and not him.

“She used to look at you that way.” Wanda’s voice echoed in his head.

He scanned the field and found her figure leaning against a tree, shading herself from the summer sun and a book in hand. Bucky grabbed the small towel and wiped away the sweat, swigging his water bottle, then joined her on the grass.

“What are you talking about? She’s never looked at me like that.” He gestured towards you and the agent.

Wanda chuckled and shook her head, “You're not blind, or stupid, Bucky, she adored you. Still does, even though I wish she would get over you.”

His brow creased. “She wanted space, ended our friendship.” 

Wanda’s eyes flashed red, “And you broke her heart.” 

“Show me.” Bucky held out his hand, pleading with her, “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“I can’t Bucky. It's private, she would never forgive me.” Wanda shook her head and placed her book in her lap, “I've seen what she's done to you, I'm not going to lose her too.”

Bucky sprang to his feet and kicked at the grass. “Then just tell me what you know. Just something?” He turned to face you, hands on his hips as he tried to think of what he’d done.

“Paris terrorist simulation,” Wanda stated without emotion.

Bucky turned around, seeing nothing but a neutral expression on her face. The simulation had been a success, the whole team had done well but he hadn’t seen you at the debriefing. Steve said you were exhausted and needed to rest. 

“What about it?” asked Bucky.

“Don't deny it. I saw it, I felt it. She had no chance of blocking me from that pain.” Wanda stood up, eyes flickering red, “you and that agent. I thought you were better than that Bucky.”

“Shit.” 

Bucky knew exactly what Wanda had meant before she explained. Shame coursed through him; he'd broken your trust by not telling you about the agent he’d been hooking up with. Honestly, he didn't want you to know, didn't want you to judge him for the flings he had. Subconsciously, he knew that was what your distancing was about because he hadn't seen her again or hooked up with anyone since.

All he wanted was you back in his life; he was going to make it happen.

Wanda smirked, shaking her head before walking ahead of him, “Best get a move on Barnes, she’s not thinking of him in a platonic way.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he strutted towards you, determined to get you back.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder and he could only hope you still felt the same way.

You couldn’t believe Bucky dared to pull rank on you in front of another agent. That he had the gall to do such a thing after he told you to leave him alone, how he betrayed your trust as a friend and unknowingly broke your heart.

You stormed down the blurry corridors as anger took the form of tears. Your whole body tense and determined to get away from the assassin on your tail. People parted like the sea as they saw your strut and scowl, you scoffed at their reaction and thought, this must be what it’s like to be Bucky on a mission. Using it to your advantage, you managed to pull someone by the arm and into the path of the Winter Soldier.

While you sprinted away, you glanced back and spotted Bucky helping the woman to her feet, apologising profusely and then realising it was the agent you had caught him with. Your blood boiled as you pushed through the door to the stairwell, it slammed against the wall and probably damaged it, but you didn’t care anymore.

It wasn’t until the breeze hit your face that you realised where you were. You’d come to the rooftop, the exact spot that you’d air all your worries with Bucky. It was the place you’d first bonded outside of the team. 

A hand dragged down your face and your shoulders slumped. You spun on your heel, ready to escape when you stopped short. There he was, blocking the doorway. You groaned, of course, he knew exactly where you’d go even before you did.

“I just want to talk.” Bucky quietly spoke, a hint of a question in his tone but a statement all the same.

“I’ll scale down the side of this building if I have to.” You stepped back towards the edge.

Bucky growled and walked towards you, “would you quit being so stubborn and dramatic for one second?”

“Just leave me alone.” You threw his own words back at him, stopping him in his tracks.

At that moment, you could see that Bucky realised how hurtful those words were, but you weren’t going to console him anytime soon. He should suffer for how he spoke to you and for never attempting to speak to you until now.

Bucky slowly circled you towards the edge, his eyes focused on you while you turned in tandem following his moves. He reached the railing then settled down into a seated position, legs hanging over the side, his chest against the metal pole.

“Are you going to join me?” Bucky’s gaze now on the horizon.

With a roll of your eyes, you sat beside him, but at least a metre apart, you couldn’t get that close to him. He was too intoxicating, and your emotions were incredibly high, even if they were full of anger and hurt, and you didn’t trust yourself not to succumb to his charm.

“Are you going to talk then?” You sassed back at him.

“I’m sorry for what you saw. You shouldn’t have seen that.” Bucky didn’t hold back, “I was going to tell you, I just thought you’d judge me.”

“I’d judge you. For sleeping with a colleague. In the middle of a training simulation?” You scoffed, “You didn’t tell me about her. Or anyone else for that matter. Natasha filled me in on all your little late night rendezvous when I was on missions.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Bucky knew he’d not win this conversation and scrambled to bring it back onto his side, “you were away, and I needed something, someone.”

“So, you used them and used me too?” You glared at him.

“That’s not what I said,” Bucky seethed, annoyed at the way you were twisting his words but not surprised with the pain you felt. 

You continued, ignoring his comment, unable to stop the words falling from your lips, “I gave you emotional support. Watched you cry yourself to sleep after a nightmare, held your hand when you had a panic attack during a mission.” You shook your head at him, “I just wasn’t good enough for the sex part.”

Bucky held your chin and pulled your face to look at him, “You mean more to me than that. I just didn’t know how you felt. If I’d had known-”

You jerked away from his touch, it felt too nice, it felt like home, but you weren’t ready to fall back into this friendship. He knew how you felt, and you weren’t ready for his rejection. You still needed your space.

Swiftly, you returned to your feet, brushing down your trousers and hands, “Thank you for your apology, but I can’t forgive you.”

Bucky stood up and watched you begin to leave, “I’ll do my best to make you see how much you mean to me.”

You paused in the doorway, but you had to be strong, to carry on walking away, you couldn’t let him hurt you again. It was time to move on.

Continue Here...

Everything Tag List: @kitkatd7 / @fandomfic-galore / @writerwrites / @thefridgeismybestie / @wedonttalkaboutitenough / @courtneychicken / @persephonesinfernos / @miraclesoflove

Marvel Tag List: @natasha-danvers / @little-baby-vixen / @stuckonjbbarnes / @starlightcrystalline / @nekoannie-chan / @hailhydra920 / @vollzeitliebe / @fitzsimmons-is-forever / @ladyacrasia / @emmabarnes / @selfsun

strike through - unable to tag.

[taestefully-in-luv]

Always You | JJK (Drabble#3)

Summary: You have yet to tell Jungkook your big news and he might not take it so well.

Pairing: Always You!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: Angst!!! Smut!!! And fluff too hehe

Word count: 7.3k (I am SO sorry)

Warnings: sad Jungkook, jealous oc, panic attack, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, multiple positions, cum eating, scratching, marking, overstimulation, mentions of anal (sorry if I forgot any)

Notes: sorry this is long for a drabble! I actually managed to get it down to 7k wooo. Also pls don’t be that mad at oc:) hehe. Make sure to send an ask if you want to chat:) ily guys

Taglist: @seagulljk

© taestefully-in-luv

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The record shop is busier than usual this evening…Yoongi has tried his best to stop by yours and Taehyung’s table to chat but another customer keeps walking in one after the other. You chuckle, waving him off, telling him to work.

“And Jungkook doesn’t know?” Taehyung frowns at you, “Like, this is huge y/n. And you haven’t told him?”

“Not yet, at least.” You admit, bringing your coffee mug to your lips. “I’m going to have to eventually though right…”

“Who else doesn’t know?”

“Everyone knows actually.”

“Oh girl, that’s not good.”

“What do you mean?” you bring the coffee mug back to the table, your fingers strumming the side of the mug.

“You’re telling me he is the last to know? That’s just…not going to sit right with him and you know that.”

Fuck, he’s right. Jungkook is your best friend, your boyfriend, the man you live with, the man you love…and he has no idea you’re about to move to another country. You got accepted to work in Japan for a year and you could not be more excited. But there’s this huge weight on your entire body, the weight equal to one man.

“I know, shit, but I just can’t. He’s going to act so supportive but I know how disappointed he will be. I mean, we just started living together recently you know? Our relationship is going so nicely and I don’t want to ruin that.” You rant, a frown pulling down your lips.

“I finally finished with my last customer.” You hear Yoongi walk up to your little corner of the record shop. “What are we talking about?” he pulls up his chair and sits down.

“y/n still hasn’t told Jungkook about Japan.”

“Still?” Yoongi looks disappointed to say the least. “y/n…”

“Guys, I know!” you throw your hands up, “I’m fucking up.”

“Wait, do the others know that Jungkook doesn’t know?”

“I didn’t necessarily announce that it’s a secret…” you bite your bottom lip, worry filling your body, “And he’s with Jin, Namjoon and Hobi tonight.”

“You should text them and tell them.”

“But it’s not the first time he’s hanging around them since I told them…so maybe I just don’t come up in conversation?” you respond hopefully.

“Yeah, not likely. Jungkook always finds a way to talk about you.” Tae grumbles. “Trust us, we would know.”

“Yeah, he’s right.” Yoongi agrees, “Listen, you need to tell him before he finds out from someone else.”

“I’ll tell him…” you pick up your mug and take a sip, “Tonight.”

~~~~~~

Your apartment is dark and there’s no sign of life—Jungkook must still be out with the guys. You sigh in relief because although you said you would tell him tonight you are already chickening out. You know, you know. A cowards move. But honestly, it’s hard!

Right as you think you’re in the clear, you hear the front door opening from behind you. Jungkook is whistling some tune as he walks in and he lights up when he sees you.

“Baby.” He sings out, walking closer to you. “Hi.” He says before leaning down and pecking your lips.

“Hi, how was your night?” you ask as you slip off your shoes and head towards the bedroom.

“It was nice.” Jungkook continues to whistle, “How was yours? How are Tae and Yoongi? Anything new?”

“No, just the usual.” You shimmy out of your pants and slip off your shirt, leaving you in some panties and a bralette. You walk out of your room and into the bathroom to turn on the shower. The water is cold but is quickly heating up as you turn the knob, you enjoy how hot it’s getting.

“Should I join you?” You hear Jungkook say from behind you. He snakes his arms around your waist and kisses your neck.

“If you want babe.”

“I want you to want me to.” He pouts, “So, I’ll ask again…should I join you?”

You can’t help but giggle, turning around in his grasp and pulling at his shirt.

“Yes, please.” You say as he lifts his arms up for you to lift his shirt off. You eye your boyfriend over, his muscles look so strong and honestly? Did they get bigger? He has been hitting the gym more. His tattoos cover one of his arms and it’s such a sexy sight. You trace your fingers over his body art and he smiles down at you.

“Like what you see?”

“You know I do.” You breathe out and he reaches behind you and unclasps your bra.

“I like what I see too.” He says as your breasts are freed. “God, I love your tits.”

“The water is probably ready.” You smirk, sliding your panties down. Jungkook’s eyes follow your movement, he watches as the panties get dragged down leg by leg.

“Then let’s get in.” He’s taking off his own pants and boxers in one go, leaving him completely naked for you.

The two of you step in the shower, letting the hot water wash over your entire bodies. He lets you go under first as he squirts some shampoo in his palm.

“C’mere.” He commands. You step out from under the water and he massages the shampoo into your scalp, creating a bubbly mess. Then you go back under to rinse, this continues for the conditioner as well and then he’s soon washing your body with body wash, making sure he gets every corner and crevice of your body. Then you do the same for him, he loves when you wash his hair, your nails scratching at his scalp has him groaning.

“Missed you tonight.” He says quietly, “You missed me?”

“When am I not missing you?” you lean up to kiss him. He doesn’t let you lean away though as he leans in further to kiss you deeper. The water dribbles down your faces as you two have your lips moving quickly against one another. He nips at your bottom lip before his tongue tangles with yours, you moan into his mouth and he swallows it.

“Gonna fuck you?” he asks impatiently. His hard cock slipping between your folds as he grinds into you.

“Yes.” You respond breathlessly. “Yes.”

~~~~~~~

You slip on one of Jungkook’s t shirts and a fresh pair of panties and slide into bed. You find yourself in your boyfriends strong, warm arms. You lay your head down on his chest and listen to his heart beat. It’s racing. Why?

“Jungkook—”

“So anything new?” Jungkook cuts you off, his heart doing a million things.

You’re quiet for a few moments before you speak up again.

“Nope.”

You hear Jungkook sigh out heavily…then he’s moving from beneath you and getting up to turn on the lamp.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure?” You sit up on your elbows, confusion drawn on your face.

“y/n…” you hear him softly warn, “I’m giving you a chance to tell me.”

“Tell you what? I have nothing to tell you?”

That’s the moment you think you can physically see Jungkook’s heart break in his chest. His face falls dramatically as a frown takes over.

“Nothing at all?” he asks quietly and that’s when you know. He knows.

“What are you talking about, Jungkook?” you decide to say instead of the truth and his face twists into a look of disappointment.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” he looks down at his hands, “That you are apparently fucking moving? To japan?”

You feel yourself go pale.

“I—”

“I have known for a few weeks.” Jungkook admits, “I’ve been giving you time to tell me but it came up again tonight…and I just couldn’t wait anymore. But it seems like you were never going to tell me.” He grits out. “Were you?” His voice is pleading now. “y/n, were you just going to leave without saying anything?”

“What? No! Of course not!” you rush to say, “I just—”

“And you told literally everyone else except for me. Why am I the last to know? Shouldn’t I have been the first person you told? Didn’t you want to like, discuss it with me first? Or did you just make the decision immediately that you’re moving there without even considering me?” he sounds so pained, like speaking isn’t something he excels at.

“Jungkook, what do you mean discuss it with you? It’s my decision,”

He looks at you incredulously, his eyes wetting with tears.

“Of course its your decision at the end of the day but we should still have discussed it! We live together, we are planning a future together!” he cries out. “Or were you going to break up with me?”

“What?! Jungkook no—”

“Maybe that would be for the best, you can’t even tell me something like this—”

“Jungkook stop.” You feel your eyes gloss over, and a few tears slide down your face. “Don’t even talk about breaking up.”

“Why not?” He spits out, “You don’t even tell me shit or consider me in the big things in your life.”

“That’s not true…” you cry. “I was just scared. I thought you would be more supportive…”

“The problem isn’t Japan, y/n.” Jungkook states. “It’s the fact that you couldn’t even tell me about it or discuss it with me. We can make this work but you didn’t even give me a chance to try.” Tears prick his eyes as he speaks and you feel yourself go numb. You fucked up, you should have told him…but you don’t think either way would have been easy.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“Wait! No…” you grab for his hand and he exhales deeply.

“Let go of me, y/n.”

“No.” you say, your stubbornness taking over. “No.”

“Why not?” he asks, using his other hand to wipe at his face.

“I love you Jungkook, and I’m sorry.”

“I love you too, y/n. But I’m mad.” He says, tugging his hand away from you. “I need some space.”

~~~~~

“Space?” Jimin asks with a frown, “Don’t you leave in like a month? Isn’t space the last thing you guys should have?”

“You’d think so. But it’s been 5 days Jimin.” You take a swig of your beer and wince at the bitter flavor. “He’s pissed.”

“And he has every right to be, babe.” Jimin points out, “Full offense but you fucked up.”

“I know…” you tug on your hair, “Last time I gave him space he didn’t talk to me for three months…” you say, worry laced in your voice. “How do I know he won’t disappear on me again?” you choke out, “That would fucking crush me. I need to talk to him.”

“I know where he’s at tonight.” Jimin admits softly, “Should we go?”

You nod your head as Jimin stands up and grabs his keys, he walks towards the front door and glances over at you.

“Coming?”

“Yes.”

You and Jimin pull up to some bar downtown, it’s in a shadier part of town and you wonder how Jungkook ended up in a place like this. You guys get inside and see Jungkook and Taehyung sitting at the bar with 3 girls surrounding them. You can’t help the way your chest tightens at the sight. Jimin looks over at you and offers you a soft smile.

“They come here to talk to girls?” you bitterly question.

“Does it look like Jungkook is even sparing one of them a glance? He just came with Tae.” Jimin defends and you roll your eyes, you still can’t help but feel irritated.

Jungkook sits here at the bar with a whiskey, taking sip after sip. He looks tired to say the least, he looks plain tired. He doesn’t even notice you coming up to them, he just takes another sip of his drink.

“Why doesn’t your friend talk?” One of the girls slurs out, “I want to talk to him.”

“Oh him?” Taehyung points at Jungkook, “He has a….y/n.” his eyes widen when he spots you.

“A y/n?” the girl asks, clearly confused.

“Yes, a me.” You say harshly, “His girlfriend.”

Jungkook hears your voice and sighs out, setting his drink down. He slowly turns in his bar stool to face you, his tired face becoming even more tired.

“What are you doing here?” he slurs out. “I said I needed space.”

“So you two are broken up then?” the girl asks, “Don’t call yourself his girlfriend—”

“She is my girlfriend.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, “I just needed some time to think.”

“Oh? With all these girls around?” you spit out. “This what you do when you need space?” You place your hands on your hips. “Talk to other girls?”

Jungkook looks at you like you’ve lost your mind, he shakes his head with a frown,

“Does it look like I’m talking to them?” he asks you, incredulously.

“It’s been 5 days Jungkook, how much space do you need? Need another three months?” he hears your voice crack as you speak and he feels himself deflate.

“Baby, I wouldn’t—”

“You wouldn’t do that?” You ask, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, “You’ve done it before.”

Jungkook stands from his bar stool and walks towards you, grabs your hand and leads you outside.

“Let’s go home.” He says softly, “We can talk.”

Jungkook pulls out his phone and orders an uber. The ride gets here within 5 minutes…you two stay silent the whole ride over to your apartment.

Once the uber pulls up to your apartment, Jungkook takes your hand and interlocks your fingers as you two exit the vehicle.

The walk up to the apartment is only a couple minutes, those are silent as well. He keeps his tight grip on your hand though, never letting go.

“We’re home.” Jungkook whispers when you two get inside. “We should drink some water.”

You nod your head in agreeance, heading towards the kitchen. Jungkook follows behind you, he watches your figure as you stumble forward. He exhales a deep, deep breath and rolls his eyes. You’re a little more tipsy than he first thought and he thought he was sort of drunk.

“y/n…maybe we should just get some sleep…”

“No, you said we were going to talk!” You yell out over your shoulder as you reach for two glasses for water. You grab the pitcher from the fridge and pour you and Jungkook a glass. He comes up behind you, and takes a glass and begins drinking it back slowly.

“I still think we should sleep on it tonight—”

“Oh? You on the couch? And me alone in the room?” you spit out, “That’s how we’re going to ‘sleep’ on it?”

“Alright, you obviously want to talk—”

“Yeah, no fucking shit.”

“Hey…” Jungkook winces, “You don’t have to cuss at me.” He says softly, “Let’s just talk.”

“How long were you going to go without talking to me, hm?”

“Maybe as long as you didn’t tell me about Japan?” Jungkook snaps. He doesn’t mean to snap, of course. But he’s starting to become frustrated. You look at him with shocked eyes, feeling guilty all of the sudden. Maybe you deserved that.

“Jungkook I said I’m sorry—”

“Maybe sorry isn’t good enough.” He grits out, “You kept something so important from me, and didn’t even think it was something we should discuss together. As a couple…as a team.”

You breathe out, trying to calm yourself, the guilt beginning to eat you alive. As a team?

“I was serious…” he begins, his chest starting to heave. “We can make it work if you’re wanting to go abroad. But y/n you have to actually tell me so we can seriously discuss it.” His pained expression feels like a stab to the gut. “Because I won’t lie to you…this isn’t going to be easy for me. I’m so…” he chokes up, “I’m so attached to you.” He finishes with a hard gulp. His eyes stinging with tears, “I’m so in love with you that I don’t know how I can physically be without you.”

“Jungkook…” you stand here with your own tears threatening to fall. “You can be without—”

“No!” he cries out, “I don’t think so.”

“You’re stronger than you think, baby.” You walk closer to him and he falls forward into your arms, you catch him and try your best to hold him up as he starting sobbing into your neck.

“N-No.” he chokes on his sobs, “P-Please don’t-please don’t…don’t leave me.” He manages to cry out between harsh breaths. “I need you.”

Your heart cracks and breaks into maybe tens of millions of pieces, then those pieces manage to get even more crushed. So, this wasn’t just about you not telling him…this goes deeper than that.

“Baby, I’m not leaving you. I would never leave you. I’m yours forever.” You remind him softly, caressing his back as he continues to weep. “We would make plans to see each other every few months, remember?”

“You—you want to l-leave me.” He cries harder into your shoulder making you screw your eyes shut so your own tears don’t spill over.

“Baby that’s not—”

“Why am I never good enough to make the people I love stay?” he whispers, his quiet sobs taking a toll on his tired body. Your eyes go wide at his comment…this is much, much deeper than you thought.

“Jungkook…” you whisper his name over and over, trying to calm him. Your hand massages his scalp and he continues to cry.

You don’t know what to say at this point…you don’t think any words you can say will work…will comfort him. Only ‘okay I won’t go’ but you can’t…you can’t say that. Because it would be a lie. You’ve already made your decision and that’s that you are going. You’ve already accepted and made the arrangements to fly out, you’ve already been placed in an apartment, everything is already done. And yes, you feel bad. Awful actually but this is something you really want to do, for you. You want this, you need this. And you hope Jungkook will become more understanding. You know he will…he’s just drunk and emotional right now. But you can tell these are his real feelings.

“Do you still love me?” Jungkook chokes out and your face twists into a frown. This is it, you finally cry. His unsureness breaks you.

“What are you talking about?” you let a few tears stream down your face, “I love you more than anything, anyone.” You hug him tighter, your arms becoming sore from how hard you’re holding on to him.

“Then don’t leave.” He begs into your neck and you fall to your knees, bringing him down with you. You feel so fucking conflicted.

“Baby.” You cry out, “Please understand.”

Jungkook shakes as he cries, like he’s beginning to hyperventilate. He tries to speak but only harsh, quick breaths leave his open mouth. He brings his head back and he looks at you panicked, like he can’t breathe.

“Okay, calm down, calm down.” You whisper, rubbing his back. “Breathe, my love. Breathe.”

Jungkook shuts his eyes and shakes his head, he is struggling to find that breath. He continues to breathe out quickly, panic rising.

“In and out, in and out.” You continue to rub his back, “I’m here my love, I’m here.”

Jungkook tries his hardest to take a deep breath but it’s so hard, so fucking hard. He opens his eyes and they scream for you, they are wide and pleading and you feel so fucking heartbroken.

“Come on, in and out…that’s it Jungkook. In and out.” He follows your instructions, trying his best to breathe in and out as steadily as possible. He finally manages to calm down only for him to break down even more…he closes his eyes and starts crying harder this time.

“Jungkook.” Your voice cracks, “Please calm down.” You feel yourself becoming more and more anxious as well.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” You whisper out over and over until he’s quieting down. You don’t stop though, you continue to repeat the words until his breathing sounds stable again. You don’t stop caressing his back either, you just continue to do what you can to comfort him.

“I know you do.” Jungkook finally whimpers out. “I know you do. I’m sorry.” He sniffles into your neck. “I’m sorry.” His voice breaks and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Don’t be sorry baby, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“No, I do.” He says a little more calmly. “I shouldn’t try to make you stay. If you want to go…then that’s what you want and I want to be nothing be supportive of what you want.”

“It’s not because I don’t want to be with you Jungkook. I wish you could just quit your job and come with me, to be honest. But I know I can’t ask you to do that.” You rub his back some more. Jungkook lifts himself off your shoulder and looks into your eyes.

“I know.” He sighs out, “I know. It’s just…it’s just for a year, right?” his big doe eyes bore into yours.

“Just a year babe.” You promise, “And I will see you every few months, and we will talk every day.”

Jungkook nods his head and tries to smile for you but it’s tense and strained and you frown again.

“It’ll be fun when you come to visit me…” you try to lighten the mood. “Imagine all the food we will try and all the sights we will see.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook tries smiling again, this time it’s a little more relaxed.

“And all the sex we will have in a different country?” you playfully wiggle your brows and Jungkook laughs while sniffling.

“I will kiss you in every famous spot in Japan.” Jungkook offers, “And we’re going to take a million pictures. And you will video chat with me every single day, right?”

“Every single day.” You repeat, “And you won’t be alone,” you remind him, “You have the guys, our friends. They’re just as much as family…”

“Yeah, I know.” He sniffles again, “I know.”

“I really am sorry for not telling you first…I was just so scared…I knew you would be disappointed…”

“Baby, I’m not like, entirely disappointed. I am also really happy for you. I’m just a bit sad for selfish reasons.” He admits. “I got so emotional…”

“You don’t think I would ever leave you, right? That you are 100% good enough. You are the love of my life, Jungkook.”

“I’m happy to hear you say that.” He sighs out. “I’m sorry for what I said…I was just…” he begins to get choked up again and you immediately caress his cheek.

“I know. You don’t have to explain…” you whisper. “We’re going to be okay.”

“More than okay.” He smiles at you with his brows pulled together. “Right?”

“Right.” You lean in and your lips meet his. You kiss him over a few times, and he lazily kisses you back.

“Let’s go to bed?” you begin to stand up, taking Jungkook’s heavy body with you.

“Okie.” He nods his head and follows you into the bedroom. “Take my clothes off for me.” He raises his arms above his head and waits patiently.

You chuckle at the sight but agree nonetheless. You walk to him and lift his shirt up, throwing it to the side. Then you are unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his pants, dragging them down his legs. He lifts one leg at a time as you slip them off…you’re dropped to your knees as you take them off his body.

“While I’m down here…maybe I could…” you play with the elastic of his briefs and he can’t help but chuckle.

“We can just go to sleep…” he offers shyly but you can see the outline of his length begin to twitch.

“I just want you to feel good…” you begin pulling the briefs down slowly, his half hard cock making an appearance.

“You always make me feel good.” He admits between a rough breath.

“Good.”

You grab onto his thick thighs and he stumbles backward until he’s gripping the desk in your room, he braces himself, staring down at you with soft eyes.

“Wanna make my baby feel so good.” You say, inching your face closer to his growing member. You haven’t even touched him yet and his cock is twitching uncontrollably. You watch as it gets harder and harder.

“Then make me feel good.” He breathes out, the desperation in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

You finally walk your fingers up his thigh until you’re softly stroking his dick. Your fingers lightly gliding up his growing length. He softly moans out, but he isn’t really, truly whining until you grip his cock and squeeze his head lightly.

“Fuck.” He sighs out, his hands going to your hair. “Love your touch, baby.”

“How about my mouth? Do you love that too?” you ask, as your face gets closer and closer until he is feeling your warm breaths fan over his cock.

“Please.” He begs cutely, “Need you.”

You bring his cock to your lips, you circle his cock over your mouth, your chin, your nose, all over your face. He groans at the view you are giving him, his tip beginning to leak precum. You dart your tongue out to lick him clean and he throws his head back.

“Please.” He begs again and you chuckle darkly.

“So needy.” You say , “Baby so needy.” You finally take his cock in your mouth, you wrap your pretty lips over the head and lightly suck making his eyes roll to the back of his head. He grips your hair tighter as you take him further into your mouth. He’s losing it. Your mouth feels like heaven, the way you lightly suck, the way your tongue drags up and down his length and swirls around the head of his dick, the way you take him further, so deep that he’s hitting the back of your throat.

You begin to bob your head up and down as you start to allow him to access all his pleasure. He groans loudly as you pick up your pace, his hands falling back down to his sides as he finds the desk again and he holds on tightly.

You take him deeper, causing you to choke on his cock and he smirks down at you.

“Having trouble there?” he asks as you continue to gag on his throbbing length, you just moan in response, the vibrations causing him to screw his eyes shut and cry out in pleasure.

You continue to suck on him for who knows how long, your jaw starting to become sore but his whines are enough for you to keep going. Your eyes wet with tears and he is in awe of the sight you allow him.

“I want to come…” he pants out, “But inside you.” He admits between harsh breaths, “But I want to enjoy this for a few more minutes…please.” He begs and you nod your head, you take your mouth off his cock and use your hand to stroke him over and over. You look up at him with your big eyes and he melts. He wants to come so bad, just not like this.

You open your mouth wide and stick your tongue out, then you take his cock and slap it over the flat of your tongue and he basically fucking loses it. You then swallow him whole again, sucking on his dick so deliciously.

“Okay, okay…” Jungkook pants out, “Let me fuck you.” He’s lifting you up by the arms and spinning your body to be up against the desk. He shoves everything to the side and on to the floor as he goes in between your legs.

“Up.” He says, helping you sit on the edge of the desk. His hands scramble to your shorts, he’s quick to unbutton them and drag the zipper down, taking them off you. Leaving you in your shirt and panties. Then he’s ripping off your shirt and bra.

“Let’s see how wet you are first.” He snickers to himself with dark eyes. His fingers rub the outside of your panties and finds them to be very damp.

“Good girl.” He pushes your panties to the side and pushes two fingers inside you immediately causing you to gasp out.

“Let me stretch you a little first.” He moves his fingers inside you as you nod your head frantically in approval. “Good girl.” He repeats and you roll your eyes to the back of your head as he begins to scissor his fingers. You wish he would keep his fingers inside you but much to your dismay he’s pulling them out and licking them clean.

“Mm.” he sucks on his fingers and winks at you. “Love this taste. My favorite flavor.” He whispers to you and you blush.

“Gonna fuck you right here, okay?”

“Please Jungkook. Need your cock so bad.”

Jungkook smirks at you before his smile turns soft and he looks at you with eyes full of adoration.

“Need me?”

“Always need you.”

Jungkook nods his head slowly as he grabs a hold of his length, he gets closer to you, his cock brushing against your clit and you close your eyes in pleasure. He rubs his cock over your clit over and over until you’re a moaning mess. He smiles at you again before lining his cock up to your entrance and slowly, very slowly pushes in. Good lord, his cock is entering you so fucking beautifully, the way he brushes against every special spot inside your tight pussy has you arching your back in pleasure.

Jungkook releases a long, harsh breath as he bottoms out, he stays still for a few moments before he’s sliding in and out of you. His thrusts are intentional, every single one has a purpose. They’re hard, fast and rough. You claw at his back, leaving long lines of pink and red down his back which only encourages him to fuck you harder. One of your hands trail up his body until you’re in his hair, you pull on the strands as your wrap your legs around his tiny waist, your heels digging into his lower back.

Jungkook lifts you from the desk and lightly slams your bodies into the wall next to the door as he continues to fuck into you. You toss your head to the side, giving Jungkook access to your neck, which he gladly accepts the invitation. He kisses you throat, and sucks into your skin. You whine at how good everything feels. Your bodies roll over the wall until you’re at the entrance of the door and Jungkook carries you over to the hallway, fucking you up against that wall as well as you scream out his name.

“Gonna fuck you on every surface of this apartment.” Jungkook promises you. “So you have a memory of a new spot every time you think of this apartment you will be reminded of how I fucked you.” Your legs begin to sliding down over his ass, and he uses his strong arms to bump you up higher, his cock never leaving your pussy.

He walks you over to the couch and lays you down on it, you’re flat against the sofa as he stays standing, fucking into you faster and harder. His cock is throbbing and aching for release but he endures it, his moans filling the room.

You try your hardest to keep your orgasm at bay, but it’s becoming so difficult as his dick is reaching that spot deep within you that has your body going tense. You try so hard you really do but before you can even warn him you feel your body electrifying with intensity as your orgasm washes over you like a huge wave of warm water. You scream, you cry, you moan out in pleasure. But Jungkook doesn’t stop, he slows down though, giving you a moment to relax.

“This isn’t over.” He warns. “I still have to fuck you from behind, still need your fucking gorgeous ass.” He’s lifting your weak body up and momentarily taking his cock out of you to walk you to the kitchen, his hands make their way into your hair and he guides you to bend over the counter. It’s cold against your breasts and you shiver.

“Spread your cheeks for me baby, give me that view.”

You are still out of breath from your orgasm but you listen to him, you reach behind you and spread your ass apart to show him your used pussy.

“Fucking beautiful. So wet.” He groans. “One of these days you’re going to let me fuck this ass aren’t you?”

Your eyes widen but you nod your head frantically, already loving the idea.

“Words baby.”

“Yes.” You moan out as you feel his cock being shoved back inside you, you choke on air as you feel him start thrusting again. You really fucking gasp when you feel his hand come down on your ass hard.

“Love this ass. So fucking much.” He says, panting. “Can’t wait to stick my cock in it and fuck you.” His words go straight to your pussy. God, you don’t want to come again this quickly but his cock feels so god damn good.

“Tell me you want me to fuck this ass.” He grunts.

“I want you to fuck me in the ass.”

“Next time, baby.” He promises, his thrusts still fucking you with so much purpose. He pulls you by the hair causing you to arch your back even more and he falls in love with this view. He loves your boobs, but he’s definitely an ass man. He will argue he loves both but the way your ass is pushed into his crotch right now…he could honestly lose his mind.

He lifts you up again, by the hair—mostly gently. And he now has your body pushed up against the fridge, your face being smooshed into the cold silver box. Your fingers dragging leaving prints down the fridge as he lifts one of your legs to fuck you at a better angle. You cry out, he’s hitting that spot again and you feel yourself losing all composure.

“I’m gonna come again Jungkook.” You warn him this time between your rough breaths.

“I’ll come with you. But we aren’t done.” He starts thrusting faster, the sound of his skin slapping your skin is honestly pushing you further into your orgasm. You feel the warmth travel through your whole body and you feel the band fucking snap. God, you are coming so hard, creaming around his cock as he slows down his thrusts to come into you, his breathing is so heavy as he starts to come. When he stills his hips he’s releasing a loud, low, guttural moan and you could come again just from the sound.

Jungkook starts whining uncontrollably as he starts to move his hips again, slowly grinding into yours and you wince at the pain, the overstimulation. He cries out, it’s too much for him as well but he doesn’t stop.

“Wanna keep fucking you.” He screws his eyes shut, thrusting into you slowly and carefully. He brings your body closer to his, your back flush against his chest and he walks you over to the breakfast table. He leaves your body, quickly takes his cock out of you and sits down on the chair and orders you to sit in his lap. He gestures towards his cock and smirks.

“Sit.”

“Jungkook…” your eyes slightly wet, “I can’t”

“You can and you will.”

You crawl into his lap and hover over his aching cock, he looks up at you and whimpers.

“hurry.”

You slowly sink down onto his length, the feeling so fucking euphoric. He slams his eyes shut and nods his head.

“Ride me.” He softly commands. You lift yourself up and lower back down again, this angle has you seeing fucking stars. You start to ride his cock a little faster now, slamming down on his hips and he grips your hips helping you rise and sink down on his cock.

“Fuck I am gonna come again.” He says, meeting your thrusts half way. He lifts his hips and fucks you from beneath you. He’s going feral now, losing all control. His cock is so hard, so needy, aching so badly for you, for release. You lean down and start kissing him, nibbling on his lips, nibbling on his jaw, nibbling on his neck. He cries out and thrusts into you so harshly now, you feel your high building and building. You’re going to come soon, but then you’re completely overwhelmed when you feel Jungkook’s fingers on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You scream in pleasure, yelling out his name as he fucks you. The chair threatens to screech backwards as you two fuck so roughly on it.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.” He yells out, his hot seed shooting inside you as he halts his movements. His fingers still rub your clit quickly and you are pushed over the fucking edge—again. You cry as you come. You grit your teeth as this powerful orgasm hits you. You’re so overwhelmed as your whole body shakes.

“Oh fuuuuuuuck.” You yell out and Jungkook grins at the ceiling as he tries to catch his breath.

“Holy fuck.” You pant out, “Mother of god.”

“Good?” he breathes out heavily, stroking the skin on your cheek. “felt good?”

“It was so fucking good Jungkook.” You whine, your body going week as you collapse on top of him. He’s just as tired as you are but finds the strength to lift you up and carry you to the bedroom.

He gently lays you on the edge of the bed and spreads your legs apart. He watches with focused eyes as his cum and your cum spills out of your used hole. He licks his lips and buries his head between your legs, you immediately release a high pitched moan when you feel his tongue cleaning you up.

“Jungkook I can’t.”

He only grunts as he swallows down both of your cum, you roll your eyes so far back into your head that all that is seen is the whites of your eyes.

“So good.” He whispers, lifting himself up and crawling over your body, his lips finding yours in a slow, tender kiss. You open your mouth as you moan, and he takes advantage and slips his tongue in. You can taste yourself on his tongue and you moan in satisfaction.

“We really need to shower. We’re so sweaty.” You laugh, kissing his shoulder.

“Then let’s go.” He says in your ear and you groan, not able to move.

“I can’t. I’m so fucking tired. You exhausted me.”

Jungkook looks down at you with a cocky grin. He lifts the duvet up and helps you slide underneath, then he is joining you.

“We can shower in the morning, let’s sleep.” He offers you and you smile in approval.

“Even though we’re so gross?” you ask, yawning.

“I’ll love you no matter how gross you are.”

~~~~~~

Waking up to Jungkook’s head buried between your legs has got to be one of your very favorite things. He starts with kissing up your legs, he starts at your ankles, works his way up your calves then finally he’s at your inner thighs. Kissing, nibbling on the soft skin and you mewl at the contact.

“Jungkook…I’m so sore.” You admit shyly, and he looks up at you with big, doe eyes.

“Just my tongue then.” He assures you, as his lips grow closer and closer to your pussy. You throw your head back on the pillow and wait in agony for his tongue to finally find your clit. He takes his time though…he continues to kiss your inner thighs, and caress your skin lovingly.

“I love you.” He whispers.

“I love you t—”

His tongue licks a hard, long strip over your pussy…and when he finds your clit he’s lightly sucking on it causing you to moan out. He licks it over and over, his face getting so wet with your juices and his spit. He eats you out messily, his nose bumping your clit as he licks you, then he travels up until he’s flicking his tongue over your clit quickly. It doesn’t take much for you, you hate to admit, but you feel the rise of your high. The tension growing and growing until its fucking snapping. You come all over his tongue and he smiles into your pussy, letting you ride out your high. He squeezes your thighs with his hands and leans back and watches as you have your eyes closed, and your lips apart. You quietly cry out, your face twisted in pleasure.

“That was fast.” He teases you. “Might be the fastest you’ve ever came.”

“I think I’m still sensitive from last night…” you open your eyes and stare up at him, “You were so amazing.” You tell him breathlessly.

“Me? Baby you’re the one who did amazing. Such a good girl.” He cleans his face with the back of his hand and makes his way next to you on the bed.

“I’m sorry for last night.” He sighs out, “I was…”

“It’s okay baby.”

“It’s not okay. I’m not selfish, I promise. I want you to follow your dreams, and I want to be as supportive as I can be.”

“I know.” You say softly. “You did have me worried there for a moment though…” you admit, your eyes sliding to the side. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m abandoning you, Jungkook.”

“I know…Fuck, I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to feel responsible for me.” He curses under his breath, “I think this year will be good for both of us.” He tries admitting. “I clearly have abandonment issues.” He tries laughing and you frown. “I think…I have to learn to be my myself too.”

“But Jungkook you won’t be alone, you have our friends.”

“I just mean…be without you.”

“Oh.”

“But you’ll still talk to me every day.” You try to smile but tears fill up your eyes. “We’re going to be a successful long distance relationship story.”

“Yeah,” he smiles for you and you believe in it, “We will be.”

~~~~~~

“So fucking does solve all problems.” Jimin comments playfully, taking a sip of his wine. You hit his shoulder with your fist and smile slyly.

“Something like that.”

“I’m glad you guys worked it out though…” Jimin looks at you more seriously, “I hope you learned your lesson not to keep things from him again.”

“Yes dad.” You roll your eyes. “I learned, I learned.” You throw your hands up in defeat.

“Ew, save the daddy talk for Jungkook.”

You quirk a brow at him, “I don’t call Jungkook daddy.” You laugh. “But I might if he asked me to.”

Jimin’s face twists into a look of amusement. He doesn’t even look disgusted, just proud. Classic Jimin.

“So, are you all packed?”

“Getting there.”

“You guys will be fine, you know?” Jimin looks at you with a soft, assuring smile.

“Trust me, I know.”

[ilyjohnb]

a/n: I decided to try my hand at a 3+1. I also started posting these on my AO3. FYI, JJ is not abused in this one and it does not follow any of the plot from the show.   **gif credit to @ptersparkers**

requester: anon “hiii!! :) could you do “Can I stay here tonight?” with john b please? :)”

summary: to simply put it, your home life sucks. you had managed to hide it from the pogues, until one night when things got really bad and you needed to stay the night at john b’s.

warnings: abuse, child abuse, swearing, slut-shaming

word count: 1997

~~ONE~~

John B was the first one to realize that something wasn’t right with you and your home life. You were all 10, and it was lunchtime. You were all sitting down at the table. John B was on your left. Pope, Kie, and JJ were on the other side in that order. 

“I hate school. This place sucks ass.” JJ laughed.

Kie smiled. “At least the food is good.”

“Just barely though!” Pope shouted, making the other four laugh.

“I like school.” You mumbled and slightly frowned. You subconsciously rubbed the bruise on your left forearm that your mom gave you the previous night because you forgot to take the trash out. School was the only place where you didn’t have to worry if your mother was going to be drunk or high out of her mind, and it was the only time where you didn’t have to cook for yourself either.

John B heard you though, and he noticed the bruise when your sleeve moved up from you rubbing your arm. He could see it clear as day, on your forearm there was a nasty purple bruise the size of your hand that wrapped around all the way.

You didn’t notice John B staring, but you did notice the bruise peeking out. You quickly slid your sleeve back down and focused on your mashed potatoes.

~~TWO~~

He never confronted you about that time, he didn’t even know how he would start. He eventually began picking up on your signs that you were nervous. He may not be as smart as Pope, but John B was far from dumb. He noticed how you would tense at even the mention of your mom or home. His next major clue was when you all were 15. 

“Hello, Y/n.”

You nervously took a breath, trying to read the situation. “Hi, mom.”

“Guess what you didn’t do? You left here for two days and didn’t even clean the dishes before you left.”

As she stepped closer to you, you could smell the alcohol. “I’m so sorry, I’ll get started right away.”

“Punishment first, girl.”

“Mom, please. I’m sorry it was an accident and it won’t happen again.”

She just smiled evilly. “Nothing to do now or take it. You get it now, or it doubles.”

Your hand began to shake. “Yes, ma’am.”

She walked over and punched you right in the stomach. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you bit on your lip so you could hold in your whimper. She kicked you this time and shoved you to the floor. She punched you one last time in the eye before grabbing you by your hair, using her knee to hold down your right arm.

“Open your eyes. Now, do you remember what you said earlier?”

You nodded, before opening your mouth to speak, a hoarse whisper came out that you barely even recognized to be your voice. “It won’t happen again.”

After that, you washed the dishes, before going to bed. You waited until she left the next morning to sneak out. You had promised the Pogues a day on the boat. It would be John B’s first time to drive it without his dad, Big John, there too. You quickly looked at yourself in the mirror. 

A big bruise was prominent on your stomach, another on your eye, and one more on your forearm. You put on the one two-piece bathing suit that you owned with a huge oversized shirt over that. You tied your bandana on your arm to hide that bruise. For your eye, you’d just have to come up with some lie.

You didn’t live that far from JB, so you took a nice walk. It was nice until you got to John B’s. You walked in the door, expecting to see all of your best friends, but the only person was Big John. He was sitting on the chair, so he saw you walk in.

“Y/n! How are you doing?” You loved John B’s dad. He reminded you a lot of Heyward, Pope’s dad. They both adored you, and you and your friends treated them as if they were all your dads.

“I’m doing pretty good.” You smiled, lying.

“Oh yeah?” You nodded. “Then what happened to your eye.”

“You know me, I got into a fight. Where's everyone at?”

“They’re in the boat, waiting for you. See you all when you get back. And for the love of God, don’t let my son kill you all.”

“Yes sir!” You laughed and went out the back door. You quickly stuck your head back in. “See you Pops!”

You started running down the dock, smiling at your friends. “Is that a wild Y/n/n I see?”

“Yes, it is, JJ. I’m a wild spirit who refuses to be tamed.”

He smiled back at you, holding out his hand to help you in the boat. You saw his eyes flick up to your bruised one. He didn’t ask any questions. You went and sat down as John B steered you all into swimmable waters. He put out the anchor, and then everyone didn’t hesitate to throw their shirts off and jump in. All except you and John B.

“Not getting in, Y/n/n?”

“Not feeling it today. You’re not getting in?”

“I went surfing this morning, so I’m a little sore. What happened to your eye?”

“Fight with a kook.”

You looked down at your bandana and noticed that it was becoming loose. You waited until you were certain he looked away before taking it off and refolding it. You were in your own world, trying to match the folds up exactly. He looked over and saw the bruise. He was almost certain that he knew what was happening to you. He thought it was what happened to you at home, but a fight with a kook was extremely possible too. He looked away quickly and didn’t mention it.

~~THREE~~

By this time, he knew. He may not have gotten confirmation with you, but John Booker Routledge knew that his best friend was getting abused by her mom. He knew he’d have to confront you eventually. He wanted to help you get out of that situation.

This time happened six weeks later. He dropped you off at your door with the promise that he’d walk with you in the morning, to take you for breakfast.

“See you in the morning John B.” You don’t know what came over you, but you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. You turned and walked in your front door before he could see the small blush that was creeping up your cheeks.

“So now you’re a slut? Makes sense I only see you hanging out with those three boys. Didn’t I raise you better, Y/n?”

“I’m sorry?” You asked, genuinely confused. Wrong move on your part.

“I think you heard me loud and clear. I saw you kissing that boy, you slut.”

“Mom, no. I swear it was just a friendship thing.” You lied, you did have a crush on John B but your mom didn’t need to know that.

She had enough, shoving you back into the wall. You don’t know what came over you, but you did it. You finally did it. For once in your life, you fought back. You kicked out your leg, knocking her down. She reached over and hit you in the eye, grabbing at your neck. She began to try to choke you, but you brought your leg up to kick her square in the chest. She let you go, the wind knocked out of her.

You took the opportunity and ran. You put your hood up and kept your head down. You didn’t even have to look up, it was like muscle memory at this point. You walked around the house to his window, before knocking.

“Y/n?”

“Hi John B.” You weakly smiled, urgency evident in your voice. “Can I stay here tonight?”

“Yeah of course Y/n/n, come on in.”

He helped you in his window before quietly tiptoeing out of his room. You awkwardly sat down on his bed, and he soon came back with a bag of ice.

“For your eye.” you almost forgot. “I know what happened.”

“Yeah, kooks are vicious at night and-”

“Y/n,” He cut you off. “Stop lying. I dropped you off at your house at 11:30, and you don’t typically go out after that. At least not by yourself. I know you. Just let me help you, me and dad can help get you away from your mom.” He pleaded.

“I came here to stay the night, not be met with false accusations.”

“Are they really false though?” He asked.

You sat there, opening your mouth in search of an answer. He had that look on his face, the same one he made when he won. You didn’t want him to win, at least no right now. You stood up and walked towards the window. Tears were gathering in your eyes. You quickly choked out and answer. 

“I’m going to stay at JJ’s. Good night John B. Thank you for the bag of ice.”

He didn’t know why he let you go, but he felt horrible. He was so close to getting the truth out of you, but he was worried if he kept pressing he’d scare you away. He decided he’d wait extra time before asking you again.

~~ + ONE~~

You had finally decided that you had enough. You didn’t want to deal with your mom anymore. 12 years. That’s how long your mother used you as a punching bag. It started after your dad left when you were 4, and you were 16 now. You had waited until your mom drank until she blacked out before you tossed as much stuff that you could into your duffle bag, packing more in your backpack. You tied the laces of your one pair of sneakers together and threw them over your head. You slipped on your flip-flops and left, with your head held high and not looking back.

You texted John B, asking if you could come over. It was 2 am but you were ready to go. As if he could read your mind, John B said you could. You ran faster than you’d ever had. When you got there John B sat with his window open, waiting for you. He took your bag and helped you in the window. You slipped the shoes off your neck and sat down on his window sill.

“You were right.” You told him.

He was holding your face in his, searching for injuries. “About what, bubba?”

“My mom and my home life. How long have you known?”

“I first noticed when we were 10. We were at lunch, you said that you liked school after we were all complaining about it, you had rubbed your arm and your sleeve rolled up and I saw a bruise. Why did you never say anything before? I could’ve helped you get out of there so much sooner.”

You sighed. “I knew it was bad, but I was embarrassed. Do you remember that one day on the boat like a year ago? When I wouldn’t go swimming? It was because my mom beat the absolute shit out of me the night before. And then there was that day I asked to stay the night, I was all sweaty from running and my eye was bruised. It was from my mom, but that was the first day I fought back. I left tonight because of you. Thank you John B.”

You were both staring into each other’s eyes, and he slowly leaned in. You leaned in too, to speed it up. And you kissed. You eventually told the other pogues, your mom got arrested, and you and JB started dating. You finally got out of the home all thanks to John B.

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

OBSESSIVE STOLAS X Male Imp Pt.1

(This is a long fanfic and will consist of multiple parts.)

The day Stolas met you, the life which had been boring at worst and full of love and respect at best, was in complete shambles. Broken ever since the "Brunch incident".

He and his wife were barely on speaking terms, and when they did speak, it would almost exclusively devolved into a fight filled with harsh words and thrown objects.

His darling starfire hadn't spoken to him in over a week. Something he'd usually chock up to teenage angst, but she actively avoided him now.

Something she'd never do before.

And so with his homelife slowly tearing him apart, he naturally thought a visit to his favourite Imp in all hell would brighten his day.

And that's where you came in.

You'd worked at I.M.P for the last few months and were quickly becoming a valued member of the I.M.P family.

Youd just finished a job and were about to fill out the rather tedious paperwork the job entailed, When the towering Demon Prince entered the office.

You were too proud an Imp to admit it, but when you first saw Prince Stolas you were a little starstruck.

Said Prince, apon finding a new Imp at I.M.P's office immediately inquired as to who you were

Taken off guard by suddenly be talking to a Prince of hell, you spent a moment fumbling your words, before finally telling him your name.

Stolas finding the whole thing quiet adorable.

Stolas sparked up a conversation, asking how you ended up at I.M.P and your work with the company. Something you were more than happy to tell him about.

You told him how Blitzø had hired you after youd single handedly killed 3 men in a fight with only a can opener.

Then you told him about how working as an assassin was challenging but enjoyable work, all things considered.

You tell him how working for the chaotic force of nature that is Blitzø was great too, when he wasn't being a prick.

As charming as Stolas found your slightly flustered conversation. There was a purpose to his visit. And so asking you if Blitzø was in, to which you told him he was in his office.

Stolas suddenly became anxious, wondering aloud if his outfit was presentable or not.

This caused you to laugh, placing a hand over your mouth.

Stolas was immediately indignant, demanding to know what was so funny.

You killed the laugh with a cough, before telling him you laughed because simply put "You'd never seen a more ravishing demon in all your time in hell" And for him to be anxious was funny to you.

Stolas Blushed hard, a Warmth he didn't understand spreading through his chest. It had been so long since he'd received such praise from someone who wasnt utterly subservient to him.

Sputtering out an timid thank you, before immediately making his way Blitzø's office, Ignoring your cries to wait.

Being violently thrown out of Blitzø's office was not how he saw this unplanned little 'Rendezvous' going.

Blitzø stepped out stared down at him, a mixture of disgust and anger plain on his face.

'I'm so sick of this shit stolas' Blitzø grumble out, pinching the bridge between his eyes. 'We made a Fucking deal, I come over ONCE a MONTH and fuck your brains out. And you leave me alone unless you have a job for us.'

Stolas tried to reply, trying to explain why he was there. But before he could Blitzø interjected 'I can put up with all creepy perverted texts and shit, but I am not your God Damned SEXTOY Stolas! I don't want to see your ass don't here again!' He screamed, before slamming the door.

Stolas just sat there. Unwilling to move. He felt like he'd just been slapped.

His eyes stung. His throat burned. He clutched at the ground, and even as his world fell apart around him, he could only focus on one thing.

He felt so cold...

He had no one.

No one loved him.

He felt so cold...

It took everything he had not to breakdown, he couldn't, not here. It was unbecoming of a prince to been seen showing such weakness.

The sudden sensation of something on his shoulder. Daring to open his eyes, he was shocked to find You, standing over him. Hand on his shoulder and a sympathetic smile on your face.

You reached into your coat and removed a handkerchief.

Croutching down you wiped the growing dew around his eyes.

Putting away the hanky, you stood up and offered him a hand.

Helping him to his feet, you asked him if he was okay. Stolas immediately tried to put up his aristocratic facade and assure you he was fine.

Only for the words to die in his throat and for him to almost burst into tears again.

Leading him into the nearby office, you find yourself in the conference room. You sat him on said conference table.

Quickly zipping off, you returned a moment later with a little plastic cup of water.

Handing the little cup, he took it with a wordless thanks.

Stolas felt cold.

He felt like his whole world was falling apart. He had nothing.

His wife couldnt stand him.

His beloved Starfire wouldn't stay in the same room as him.

He had nothing and no one.

No one loved him.

Why should he even go on.

Even through there crimson glow, you could see just how close he was to breaking down.

So before his despair could consume him completely, you did the only thing you could think of.

You climbed atop the conference table and pulled the poor owl-boi into a hug.

It was a little awkward due to the height difference, but standing on the table brought you high enough to pull his head onto your chest.

Stolas was utterly shocked, not just by the action itself, But the fact you did this on your own acord.

He didn't have to barter or beg or make promises for your affection.

You just... gave it freely.

He couldnt help himself.

It had been so long since he'd last felt the loving touch of another soul.

And for you to give affection so openly, he felt he could let himself be vulnerable to you. He releases a long anguished cry, bursting into tears.

You just held him close, gently petting his head, whispering words of comfort, telling him everything would be okay.

He didn't know why but your words brought out

Stolas threw his arms around you, holding onto you as though you were the last anchor in his sea of despair.

The poor owl drenched the front of your shirt with his dejected tears.

Stolas didn't know how long he cried for, and you simply didn't care.

You could tell he needed this and were more then happy to give the demonic prince some much needed affection.

Eventually, Stolas shed all the tears he had, standing up he unintentionally pulled himself from your warm embrace.

Stolas instantly missed the warmth of your touch. The same all consuming coldness as before instantly returning.

Looking up at Stolas you draw your handkerchief and go to wipe his tear stained face.

But before you could, Stolas grabbed your hand, his other hand was placed on the back of your head, he pulls you into a kiss.

You weren't sure how to react, stolas certainly didn't give you any time to figure it out as he pulled you deeper into the kiss.

While you were initially shocked by the kiss, you honestly, didn't care to put up any kind of resistance.

While you would of preferred he asked for a kiss, you could tell the guy needed this. And all things considered, you were happy to oblige him.

So when his tongue slid across your teeth, asking for entrance, you wrapped your arms around his neck you let it in, giving stolas full access to your mouth.

You began leaning into the kiss, doing your best to return his passion.

Stolas, took your returning passion as further permission, he became more aggressive.

His tongue dominated your mouth, as his hands began roamed across your body.

Stolas was in bliss, each time you shivered or moaned, bringing him further pleasure.

Taking each sound as encouragement, he became more and more aggressive. Sure that each sound you made was an unconscious sign of love.

He became more desperate to hear your angelic voice as moaned or cried out. Desperate to hear someone say they loved him.

Gripping his head, you tried to de-escalate the situation before it got out of hand.

Of course that was easier said then done, as Stolas was much stronger then he looked. But after much effort, despite Stolas's silent insistence that you continue, you finally managed to break the kiss.

Stolas's forceful nature found you pushed back onto the table. Stolas towering over you, staring down at you with those awe inspiring crimson eyes.

'We cant be this doing this' You try to tell him 'Not here. What if someone walks in on us?' The question hung in the air. When it became obvious it wasn't deterring his growing need you asked 'What if Blitzø catches us?'

Stolas pulled back at that.

Looking to the side he rubbed his arm, Anxiety bubbling in his chest.

Stolas hadn't thought of that.

What if Blitzø did walk in?

Finding him with one of his employees.

In his office.

Would Blitzø be upset?

Would he yell at him, scream and throw a fit, insisting he had betrayed him...

Would Blitzø even care?

There was a part of him that said 'Of course he would. Blitzø, no matter how much he denied it, surely Blitzø cared for him on some level.'

Stolas could tell himself that all he wanted, but deep down, he knew the truth.

He placed his hand on your cheek, looking down at you. He tried to speak only for a new wave of emotions hit him, causing him on reflex to fall silent.

It was in that moment, as he stood over you, did he realis he didn't need to hide his vulnerability from you. You weren't judging him, he could be vulnerable to you and would judge him for it.

His heart swelled and despite having just met you, he found himself developing a deep yearning to be with you.

'I-I know this is sudden. And you have every right to say no. But please... No one has ever shown me such genuine affection like you have today.'

' I'm so used to people only interested in me for my status or resources.' Stolas held himself, looking dejectedly to the side. A new wave of sorrow enveloping him.

'Your the only one who's shown me the slightes care, past what I could do for them.' He didn't meet your gaze, he ran his hand down your chest, his voice becoming just above a whisper. 'I have nothing (Y/N), I have no one. Right now your the only thing I have.'

'I need to feel something (Y/n), I need to feel something before I fall apart, and I want feel it with you.' He was practically begging you by this point.

Things like pity and mercy were a death sentence in hell.

There was nothing stopping you from saying no. You cared little for royalty. You weren't some door mat that took every word from royalty as gospel.

But right now, this great Demonic Prince standing before you. He didn't want your obedience. He wasn't forcing you to do anything.

He just wanted some sort of affection. something you knew you could give him so easily.

How could you say no?

With a deep sigh, you resigned yourself to your fate. Leaning forward you place your hand under his chin and raised his head to meet your gaze. Stolas was shocked when pulled him close and planted a kiss on his his beak.

'Lock the door' you whispered.

[strawberry-nugget]

Stargazing [through the five stages of grief] | K. Bakugo

★Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki/ reader

☆Synopsis: after Izukus sudden death you and Bakugo find comfort in each other

★Warnings:18+, minors do not interact, sexual themes(SMUT), aged up characters, grieving and coping mechanisms, depression as part of a stage of grief, language

☆A/N: I wrote this for @starstruckkittensweets​ 's  Summer Romance Collab collab I also cried multiple times while writing this for so many reasons. Dedicated to my friend @aichiin in hopes this is any comforting to her <3

★Word Count: 10.6K

i. denial | 3.28 am Just when you think silence is going to engulf you in lethal restraints, he's got you. Held and embraced, away from all the evil in the world, pouring a fountain of tears in the burgundy of his tank top. The beauty of the seashore is unmatched at this time of the year -end of July- honey colored sand spreading to as far as your eye can see, lining the white foams of the water perfectly. It shines under the moonlight beautifully golden, as if Midas' touch has grazed each and every speck of sand; it's almost a pity to watch some weather away in the soft evening breeze. Not many stars are visible with how bright the moon is and you simply can't stop thinking about it, the numbness in your heart as you're trying to spot the only few constellations that you know, but even them seem unable to shine brighter than the light of the moon. But he- he shoots a hand to the sky with one eye closed as he mutters something under his breath. It makes your heart pause. You don't catch it though -whatever it is he said- ears deaf to the feeling of being pressed too tightly into his broad chest -to an asphyxiating point, even- but you catch your heart fluttering again for the first time in weeks. A good sign, you guess, the little excitement that you feel can overthrow the buzzing void in your heart, or your head. "That's the Hercules one right? You've been trying to find it for years huh?" You feel the humming in his own hollow chest more than you hear the soft muttering that leaves his lips. This heat he usually emits is probably gone by now, from how tight he's holding you and you're not entirely sure why he's putting on that show for you. The soft pretending of searching for the stars when he won't let your face turn to the direction of the sky, or why he just so effortlessly knows all the constellations you've been trying to find. Under any other case you'd call him a show off, a self contrasting asshole and his sloppy hold around your chin and neck proves that you've never been this close, as expected. He doesn't know what you like or how you'd rather be held, or even, how anyone would like to be held and you don't know anything about how to handle someone like him but social expectations don't matter when comfort is needed, or whatever Mina and Ochako said. The air smells like salt and seaweed, musty and a bit heavy, but refreshing at the same time. As refreshing as hot July air could ever be yet you still find the breeze chilly, so you coo into chest even more, throwing a leg over his thighs, and flexing your palm on his ribs. In response he soothes his hand down your shoulder, trying to create some much needed friction for you. "You can drop the act now" You mutter, rubbing your cheek comfortably onto the soft cotton of his tank top

"What act?" "Trying to comfort me, trying to use me to comfort yourself" There's hurt in the way you talk, and it jabs his heart peculiarly, making him push you off his chest just one but so he can meet your gaze. When he does, you realise you've never been met with such a serious look, and your mind vibrates in what your own confrontation towards him should be. "I mean, why be comforted? We're strong. We're heroes, we-" He shushes you, with a gaze and a snake-like lisp sound that rattles out of his teeth. "What's insufferable for me, I'm guessing, is even worse for you" He clears his throat just when his voice gets a bit raspy from laying on his back "and I'm a hero, it's what I should do. He would have wanted this as well you kno-" "He would have wanted you to be yourself not try to become him" You nuzzle your nose deeper into his chest, avoiding his eyes and the prying stars that decorate the sky above, feeling watched, betrayed by how they're able to shine so brightly despite the loss you're feeling. But then again, why wouldn't they shine? Isn't life just supposed to move on even after a loved one isn't with you anymore? Stars aren't supposed to go out, to become more or less as time goes by, they've seen distraction and glory and fall -it's only you who finds

it cruel that they can still shine in times like this. "He would have wanted me to be better. It pains me more than you to admit" Katsuki has never shown such an appreciating side of himself when it comes to your late friend. Or he has and you've just not been there to witness. Or, perhaps, you've chosen to turn a blind eye to anything that's ever brought them close because you weren't the most fond of him since childhood. Yet, a feeling inside your chest commands you to oppose him and his word. Even by the comfort of his own chest. There's no denying that you've wanted to hate the one who's nothing but comforting you, but you find yourself stuck between grief and a burning heart. It leaves you numb, maybe, to think that he so graciously holds you as if nothing else in the world matters. When this shouldn't be the case. "Why, why does this have to happen to us? We're supposed to save people, losing people is-" "The biggest part of the job" He finished your words for you, strobing that little rattle of reluctance he senses in your voice "We didn't-" "Sign up for this?" You nod at his inquiry "in a way I think we did. He always pushed himself and if you say you never saw it coming, you're lying" "I didn't" "There you go" "No, no" You shake your head "he was strong. This shouldn't have happened, it's unfair and it's-" "It fucking damn is unfair but there's no rematch for him. I wholeheartedly agree, it shouldn't have been like this. We shouldn't be here, days after his damn birthday, hollow and mourning. He should have been here, we should be celebrating" He's not going to call him an idiot. Not anymore. Not even because he's hurt you or anyone as a matter of fact, but because he's come to respect his dead, he's come to lose the attitude when it comes to seeking help, or giving it. It's something Izuku has taught him, a strong moral that no longer rests in the back of his head as a possible value to characterise a hero. It's rather a reality, such a strong wave of consciousness and coinsense that washes through his body all the time. You think, qualities of Izuku, wash through your soul in waves too. "But suggestion is oceans away from reality" Katsuki whispers and just then, the tender touch of his fingers lingers in between your locks. Only for a split second, and for the sole reason of flicking some hair on top of your ear, to shield it from the chill of the air. You're not certain if you act on your grief's accord or not when you grab onto his wrist to prolong the soft petting of his hand on your head. But he complies with you wordlessly, sighing out a heavy bubble of air off his lungs. "That's not the hercules one" You whisper "Huh?" "The constellation" It's oddly satisfying how you coo deeper into his chest, even if you can't see him pop one eye open to peak at the sky "that's Ursa Major" "Like fuck it is Ursa Major" "Katsuki, is this your first time stargazing?" You ask quietly and he wraps a hand around your waist to drag you a little closer towards his chin. When he does, he rests his chin onto your hairline. "I can't believe I opened a goddamn map for this and couldn't even distinguish the hercules one from the Big Dipper" You hammer out a little giggle. It sounds mechanical but still, he mimics you, and you can not only feel the vibrations in his chest, but the movements of his chin too, as he mellowy rubs his soft skin on your hair, soothing his lips on your head from time to time. The breaths he lets out of his nose are silent, yet you feel them calming you down, so warm and so calming against you. "The Hercules is a big constellation but it's not bright at all, you have to catch it on a moonless night and it's usually gone too early" Katsuki sighs. The process of taking in your words in analogy with late Izuku is too strong and it's too early for him to touch a subject that even so reminds him of the situation. It's more than enough that you two got to talk about it tonight, or rather, about your feelings, but at one point the line is drawn on what's harmful to his soul. A sole mention of the condition of a constellation should be making his stomach churn, and it definitely shouldn't make him hug you tighter into him. For one, the phenomenon of the constellation's nature has been around for longer than he has been who he is, and will still be when he's not. This small coincidence, even if it rubs salt to the wound, is not the fault of a small mass of stars gathered together to form something human eyes can recognize as a kneeling figure. Izuku's life is probably just a parallel to the greek myth of hercules, or so, he likes to glorify, but when it comes to him, there's noass of stars for anyone to remember him by.

Izuku falls and dies so long as the memories of his friends live, finding shelter behind a myth, a legend, a course change in the history of humankind that lead to this specific moment. Him, mourning with you, on the beach that Izuku cleaned years ago, feeling his heart ache in sync with yours. And maybe, maybe if- "If I close my eyes and fall asleep, will I wake up and realise that this is all a bad dream?" You ask as if you don't know what the answer is going to be and he tries to not indulge in feeding you a void of hopes just to make you feel a bit more sure of your future, or try to convince himself he'll have a good one too. He wants to reply positively, just as much as he wants to wake up too in a reality where Izuku is still alive, and he's got to say everything he's ever wanted. He knows, some nights he'll find himself thinking he would like to go back and change the course of his own history, whatsoever, to never hurt Izuku for naturally having qualities he had to work for, or change the fact that he's been harsh and cruel. The 'why us' inquiry that arises in his chest as he's stroking the slightly greasy hair on your scalp is what's left to bounce in his head for now, eating away every curly corner of his brain, turning any other thought into a wasteland, yet, still his answer to you is what he would rather not hear, bathed in a cruel nature he's tried so hard to lose from his persona. "I wish it were just one bad dream" There's so many questions in his head; are you asleep? Or will he hurt you by trying to force himself into accepting Izuku's death? Are you prone to being hurt and pricked by how raspy and serious his voice sounds? Because you don't make a noise, nor a sniffle, and your hand isn't tightening around the collar of his shirt anymore. He wishes too, it's all a bad dream. For the lover that you lost, and for the person he's known better than anyone, the person that knew him better than anyone. But it's not. And the mellow sound of waves crashing on the shore bears a tune to convince him to forget, but the water won't reflect the stars he can see with his bare eyes. Thus he's asleep before the lurking darkness in sound and sight gets him too. Just for a while, just until it's his own turn to face oblivion. A small part of his brain, though, convinces him he'd face any oblivion so long as he gets to fall asleep in your arms like that, over the soft, warm sand, on a chilly July night. 

ii. anger | 9.47 pm If you could only know the reason you're yelling, tears wouldn't be spilling from the corners of your eyes, down your cheeks just to drown on your overly stretched mouth, wetting the lips that are stinging in splits and bruises of dehydration. He's not one to back down while facing the disdain of his own feelings. When that disdain should be directed on how petty the cause for your irritation is, you're both focused on the snap of nerves inside each of your heads, chests heaving as you're staring at each other dead in the eye; you, from the cold seat of your couch, Katsuki, from the numbing howling that seeps through the cracks of your front door. The bags in his hands are heavy with groceries and the weight of this peculiar, unspoken agreement to settle together. It's hidden in the affection behind every piece of vegetable and fruit in the tote bags. Even if the night is young, he's got a look in his eyes that mutters how

willing he actually is to grab a pot and a spoon and cook for the two of you. But you know- he shouldn't put pressure on himself after a late patrol for a chore you were supposed to fulfill. If only he wasn't on your ass about ordering take out. "You can't fucking order again." He speaks, grunting more so than accentuating the words as he probably should. But he's irritated you, so much that you've spent the last ten minutes yelling at each other while standing frozen in your places. Probably, a neighbor has heard and your mere response to the alarming social anxiety that arises from that fact is apathy. You're already directing a big amount of angry spouting at the blond, there's no such room to experience other feelings right now. "Fucking hell, Katsuki just stop! I don't fucking care if you think ordering isn't fucking good. I can't cook right now. I won't cook" You say in a higher pitch "and you won't cook either" When he opens his mouth to speak, you roll your eyes, away from him -you just know what he's going to say- though you instantly regret it. The sight of him frozen, with bags in his hands before your door is upsetting, and begs to stir up your mind in horrid imaginations of him throwing a tantrum at you and leaving you, of him never opening up his door to you ever again. Maybe, just maybe you should have thought this through better before yelling at him. "Fuck you" He says through greeted teeth and scrunched up nose huffs "fuck fuck fuck fuuuuck" He's not a punching bag, he's the only person who's here for you and your heart won't forgive you if you lose him. Your head turns or snaps to his direction, eyes too gooey to meet his gaze properly, but you still do look at him so desperately, you're sure your heart makes a ripping sound at its very seams. And that firm dedication of his to closing himself off is evident again; in that wet anger in the corner of his eyes, seeping like magma just at the tips but never falling down on his cheeks. In his pursed lower lip -and oh, will it be so infuriating to think, you don't wanna fight, you just want him to press those lips against your forehead and forget those arguments that always arise? As he's headed for the kitchen, step after step and upper lip overlapping the bottom one to hide his irritation, his eyes are averted from you and you chase after him with counted movements; a little limp to your left leg by sitting on it for a long time bubbling up inside your bones. Unwillingly, non-eagerly. Regret and remorse for yourself are feelings that rush through you, making your tongue run faster than your mouth, making your head dizzy with guilt and drowning you of a trillion of things you want to say to him. "Katsuki" You plead with half a breath, eyebrows forming an impossible frown above your eyes "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have yelled, i-" "Fucking save it. Order if you want, I don't care" "Katsuki-" He huffs air too harshly out of his scrunched up nostrils again and shuts his eyes closed, hands resting over the groceries as he's leaning over the kitchen table. Not once in the minute he's taking from himself does he spare you a glance, but you can rather listen to him mutter a soft 'be patient' under his own breath. To himself, you realise, but your heart's too heavy as you anxiously suck your upper lip inside your mouth, wondering -will an apology fix this? It may irritate him even more, and taking the risk is probably not worthy of him getting riled up, but you go for it nonetheless, hidden away behind the stall that separates the kitchen from the living room. Your little hiding spot for the moment, a place where you can safely hide behind as you choke on your own spit, trembling at the thought of any possible outcome of your next choice of words. "I'm sorry, I'm just, I'm snappy lately" He won't respond and you notice how he's counting his breathing with eyes still shut, though, ever so slightly; that's your sign to step back, give him space and time as you make your first step to the living room. Though small glimmers of regret

springle inside your heart, landing in small needle-like jabs on every stretchy wall of the overly sensitive organ, your brain begs to be the voice of common sense, just to push you to just give him space. But what if he doesn't want space. What if he wants to be held? Like you do. What if he doesn't want to fight? "I'm sorry" You mutter under your breath, again Your step is almost crippled as you try to approach him, lost and scared at the sight of him still struggling to compose himself still. The guilt in your gut is immense and spreading like a wildfire on rotten land, but you feel like, perhaps, you -and him consequently- soothe down when your hand touches his shoulder, or, when your forehead rests easy on the crook of his neck, just after you out your weight on your toes, You can't help but repeat your previous statement. "I'm sorry, talk to me, tell me if you're good or not" He grunts, letting out a short breath in the form of a sigh. 'I'm not', you translate and your chest tightens Your right hand comes to curl around his chest over his shoulder, your left, mechanically even, cripples around his waist enough so you can press his back into your chest. "Fuck i-" You don't make a move to shush him "I feel so bad, I just. What would he have to say about me if I left his girlfriend on her own, to eat crap everyday. That's not healthy for you. I shouldn't be fucking yelling. I shouldn't-" He's so out of breath, that you consider punching some air into his lungs, with the softest CPR to have ever been performed, but the thought leaves your head immediately, your heart drowning your stomach in guilt at the imagery of your lips on his. The snap to reality after that little moment is so intense, you don't know how you handle yourself and your heart. "I shouldn't be yelling" In all your years, you've never heard him be so sincere while being so furious. When it's true that he's nothing of getting into drama or anything of sort, Katsuki is always too prideful to admit when he's made a mistake. You figure, it's unfair to still judge him as if he's his UA self, or his middle school self even. He's a different person now, having lived through so many events that could crush even the most strong willed person -and that's what he gets from admiring All Might, you think- and all he's ever done is try to be here for you. Understanding each other in such difficult times is mandatory and compromise is a foundation that you both need to work on. You find yourself opening your mouth and shutting it again for several seconds as you're trying to voice it. The dry, chapped feeling of your lips colliding makes you want to shut your eyes and wordlessly communicate your thoughts to him, but it's impossible. For your quirk isn't transmitting your thoughts to others, nor is it keeping track of one's thoughts. Everything you do to comfort him, has to be done by yourself, strictly. "Katsuki, I don't want you to-" You nuzzle your face into his back in hopes that perhaps, it muffles the intensity of your speech "I don't want you to overwork yourself for me. Izuku-" His name is whispered like words of sin or ruthless statements of atrocities, when it shouldn't "-wouldn't let me do that to you." He doesn't talk, or sigh, or even place his hand on yours and a whole minute passes like that. Or two, or three, or an eternity. The clock is ticking so loud that it's unbearable, his heartbeat muffling your ears while his scent is musking your nose. It's a funny thing, that perhaps, everything feels so warm, so comforting like this, you'd like to keep hugging him, if he allows you too. For as long as this minute's eternity can last. "Don't leave me cause I'm angry and snappy" It's so barely audible that you think he's only trying to calm himself down again, but it strikes you like a swift slash of a sword to your chest to realize the weight of his words. You thought you were the only one feeling this way. 'Don't leave me'. As if- as if it's an option that's hunting the depths of his chest, or perhaps as if your situation isn't a granted part in your lives for a little over a month. You're not one to inquire of a person in panic why they said what they said or if there's a cryptic meaning behind his very words. Because, frankly, there isn't. He's pretty clear, even while being tenderly desperate about it. And oh, you feel your heart pull and pinch at the thought of it.

"I'm not leaving" "Good" When he turns to face you, he's gripping onto your palms like it's painted out to be for dear life, a plea to not let him go as he turns his body around; you feel as if he needs you, as if, you're necessary to comfort him as well. You're too far gone in the joy that gathers in your stomach to hear him utter the words "I'm not leaving either" but you find some meaning of this statement in his embrace, when he shoves you into his chest. There's a little awkward cripple to your gaze that causes you to steal a stare outside the window or, perhaps, it's something bigger, or even the drive in your heart to hope for something more as an outcome for this. In the worst case scenario, you're pleading for forgiveness, if, by any chance, Izuku is still out there and can witness this little happening. That's when you find it, and truly, you have to catch a second glance at it to feel certain about what you just saw. Subtle little shimmers of stars, painting a large part of the sky, patiently awaiting to be noticed, in agony and tiredness that only a hero could recognize. And if you're a hero, you can feel it too, the kneeling of the legs, the flexing of the arms -it's all there- drawn by little stars of other galaxies in front of your very eyes, after searching for them for years. That's perhaps what people mean when they say, happiness is found in small things. Katsuki's arms around you, his faint breathing grazing the skin of your nape tenderly as he's calming himself down is more than enough, but the sky tonight has managed to make a compromise for the two of you, shining the diamond colors of the hercules constellation to the two of you. It's a blink and you'll miss it, no reason to break away from his arms, so you coo into his mellowy neck, speaking against his skin. "I found it, the hercules constellation" "What? Where" He's not shook at all as he speaks, and it doesn't surprise you either; there's this dazzling tranquility in the air, so much for getting you to calm down after such rage, but you'll take it over anything else, anytime. When Katsuki seems to detach his resting lips from the crook of your neck, he lays the side of his face on the very spot, inquiring again about the location of the constellation. You're more than happy to provide him with an answer. He drags you to the balcony with slow steps, a million steps away from the lights of your apartment as it seems before snapping his head towards the sky, squinting his eyes to comb through any star he could probably set his gaze on. You help him find it, not because it's before his very eyes, but because something inside you is flickering to rush you. Hurry it up. Look at the pretty stars and embrace him again, because it feels good, and you don't mind that you get mad at yourself for thinking this way. You don't even want to question your morals as thoughts of holding his hand pass through your head. Maybe a finger or two tangled in his like messy strands of hair, too hard to detangle- maybe that'd be comforting. Perfect even. Despite your best efforts to tickle his pointer finger with yours shyly, you come to realise he won't respond -you better behave, or, you should have know, but the insecurities that make you question everything are as evident as they'll ever be- you wonder if you've made him uncomfortable. But he's wrapping an arm around your shoulders, by grabbing that hand you're using to guide his gaze across the constellation and this time you can't help, but tangle all of your fingers through his, like a hair clam, fitting so perfectly, your heart cracks even more than last time. "I can pop some rice in the rice cooker and you can buy some Teriyaki" He sighs, though not once does he pry his eyes away from the stars

And that's where you feel a weight lifting off your shoulders, only to drop to your stomach; it's not a half hearted compromise, rather, it's sincere, something so eerie and far away from the usual 'take it or leave it' Katsuki Bakugo, but… you'll take it. With a broken smile and a coo into his shoulder. You turn to look at the stars as well, and Katsuki cracks a small smile now that you can't see it, because compromising actually feels good, relieving or whatever. He doesn't want to think about whether, in any sense, he's on your mind or not, he'd rather show you a piece of his own mind, a crack opening to see inside his heart -it's almost too painful that he has to be the one to calm things down. He's never been one to do so, but standing on his feet right now is mandatory. For you, him, whatever the two of you have got going on, because if not, coping won't be effective. He likes to think, you have each other in this, and that's enough for him. To keep things peaceful he has to take an occasional step back, and if that's the price to pay, he guesses he will. Izuku may be gone, he may have turned the two of you into what seems an unfixable broken mess, but at least he's left you with each other. Perhaps, he'll once appear again, in the form of new love, or a smile on your face at the sight of an old childhood photo, and things will be fine again. If only he could have been kinder, or better, or not as competitive, he wouldn't be sorry or trying to fix his own self. For now though rice and teriyaki ought to be the only problems he wants to face.

iii. bargaining | 7.30pm "What if I could have prevented this?" His voice is anything but loud, his chest too hollow, bouncing the voice of his concern around the broadness of his muscles, just to graze into your ears in soft vibrations. The statement alone makes you perk up and swoon your face away from him, hands laid flat and firm against his petrocals as you're finally fixing him with a gaze. Saturdays always bite his ass and Sundays are ever so depressing. This weekend is no less easy for the two of you. Katsuki's barely able to slur words without hissing or cursing, seeing as his jaw is bandaged up by being sliced by a villain at work today, and you've both decided that it's best if he gets to have an early night. "You'll be fine by next week, I'll help you change your bandages" He shakes his head before he buries his face behind his palms, as if trying to hide his emotions from you; you give him the right, with a worried face to match the situation "Not that, shit- no 'm taking 'bout Izuku" Oh You can't really place yourself into why but you've been having the same thoughts as of late. It's only natural, you dare say, to convince yourself not to be persistent on guilt tripping that little mellow voice in your head that tried to tell you that everything's going to be fine in the end, but it's in vain- for every time this happens you have to find a new way to occupy yourself to shove the destructive thoughts away. It's probably not right in any sense, to prompt Katsuki to ignore the problem as well, but the thudding of your heart -always matched perfectly by the raindrops that hit on the roof of the house hard enough to make you feel oh so concerned- commands you to find a new coping mechanism to add to your little pile. "I- I just-" A look in his eyes and you're lost in a trance of whether you're going to break his heart by momentarily avoiding talking. It is more than enough to convince you to voice something, anything, but every word that sparks at the back of your brain is washed by astounding waves of anxiety that have your tongue swim in the sea of your mouth. You don't come up with anything to say for as long as a moment lasts. "It's like- I should have been there! I turned down that fucking call because I was sure he could do this on his own" "Katsu" "He fucking- I fucking- I-" "Hey, stop it-" You plea "It doesn't make it any different, I know that but-" He snaps

quicker than you can imagine, prospering away from another call of his name that slips from your lips. Irises turn away from you in wrinkly eyes, furrowed brows and pursed lips. His heart is palpitating so fast, his eyes flicker in what you can read is pain, maybe, you could take some blame to yourself. Not that you have any right trace if thought to come up with comfort, or rather, not like you have it in you to let Katsuki assign this all on himself. "I could-" You start, yet your mouth is dry "I could have been there as well-" It's such an awkward miniscule moment that you share but it's enough to make your heart feel like it's breaking in regret. You're only left to wonder if your friends are feeling that way too, about Izuku's call for reinforcements that Katsuki turned down, that none of them tended to on time. "Don't put this on you" Your stomach, unable to cooperate with any plea of yours to not drown in anxiety, stirs its contents to it's desire, making you sit up; Katsuki's embrace is too void for you right now, your chest is way too hollow for you to not feel alienated. It's in moments like these that you know trying to handle yourself or your life with each other is probably a mistake, a false emotional dependency that should not exist otherwise, and you always hope he gets to prove those intrusive thoughts of yours otherwise. You're taken aback when warm hands find their way around you; it's unexpected and you flinch, but you're soothed the moment your brain processes who it is that's hugging you, bringing you back to reality and breaking your short lived dissociation. He presses his ear onto the crook of your neck, this time, not hissing at the way his wounds ache as his skin tubs on yours. He notices that certain way your breathing's working and he sighs in relief, or sorrow, for he's too scared to ever speak of what's hiding in his chest, or what's adding to him feeling so twisted and evil. "Wanna go for a ride?" He says, unexpectedly, surprising even himself by how absurd it sounds "Where to?" "Niko" He purrs and you let out a giggle "That's too far silly" "I 'on know, heard it's pretty this time of the year" You finally turn around to him, only slightly so as to not disturb his embrace and ruffle a hand through his hair, and pause just before your lips find his forehead. Somewhere deep inside of you it hurts for this to feel so casual, a loving interaction with Katsuki of all people. It feels like some sick trick of betrayal but your eyes are burning onto his skin while your world moves in slow motion. A hand on his cheek isn't as harmful as the addition of another one, yet you still go for that choice, dry lips inevitably set onto pale pink skin, pressing a soft kiss of comfort. "We could go at that spot, near UA, we used to go there a lot when we were high schoolers" Katsuki's words are calm and collected, hidden between gritted teeth so he can appear like his chest is fuller than yours, but what you don't know is that his heart is trying to beat out of his chest, like it's the most secretive, harsh prison. He briefly wonders if by knowing so, you'll hurt as much as him. But your kiss on his forehead, the warm place in which he rests face against your chest it all points to you feeling the same- it's there and he can read every single sign, whether he wants to deny them or not. "Should I get dressed?" A grunt this prolonged means yes. And truth be told the set and scenery of this small driving outlet is almost idyllic; a silent car ride, tainted faces and the gloomy watery corners of one's eyes to match the pouring rain, the slow, mellow music matching in beats with the squeaky wipers. What a perfect, diligent harmony you've got. It feels like a cut to another scene in a slow paced movie. The time is still stuck at 8.15, signifying how it wasn't long ago that you were starting to drown in a pool of bargaining -and voicing it out loud- and a part of you is still sad for thinking that maybe, for Katsuki, you're a coping mechanism. A full rembrandt of what's left of

Izuku's that he doesn't want to give up. You keep wondering if that would be the case had he still been alive. Would he ever have such an attitude stored inside of him for you had you not been dating Izuku on what now counts as ancient history? He parks his car on a narrow little road that splits the woods in half and turns the engine off. Seeing that it's November already, you think about how this is a bad idea, you know how cold he gets, and he's not wearing any jacket but you keep it to yourself. Perhaps, had Izuku been here, he would have brought an extra jacket too. For now, it's foggy windows and died down warm breaths. Thus, with a quivering lip you settle lower into your seat and sigh. "I- I know you like stargazing" He coughs, vermillion eyes pacing back and forth between you and the rain that's clashing on the car's glass "and I got an app and a window on the roof of my car" "But it's raining" "Who caaaares!" He grunts when you pout and turns away from you, something that makes your stomach coil abrasively. You want him to look at you, you want him to- As ridiculous and bitter as it sounds, you're tired of asking yourself if any of this would be happening were Izuku still here. Because he's got a stupid little fucking app on his phone for you. Because you're dying to press your lips onto his skin again. Half an hour ago feels like an eternity has passed already. He cares about you enough to open the app -and switch the location of his phone on- and that's more than enough actually. You glue your eyes to the bright screen and follow it as it pops us with a dark window, asking for confirmation that it's authorized to use the camera of Katsuki's phone. A part of you sinks in the silent death of love at the thought that, yes, he downloaded this just for you. Joy in little things, you figure, is what keeps you grounded, it's what ultimately pushes you to rest your head on his shoulder as he lifts his phone up, facing it on the small opening on the roof of his car. "Can't see past all this water, dammit" "So?" You coo, and the previous small irritation in his voice dies down with a grunt that comes from the depths of his chest. "The app's fine. Feels just like stargazing." You've never done anything similar with Izuku. And there's not even a spec of comparison clouding over your head, despite the guilt that settles in your stomach once again. Looking up to Katsuki, you can see his jaw tensing in the slightest, most probably in pain -you wonder, does his wound still ooze- and you can't help but feel like your eyes are stinging. You sniffle nonetheless. And Katsuki retreats his shoulder, letting your head hang without support as he turns to you. "Maybe, even if we can't see them, they're still there and-" You purse your lips to the side of your cheek, thinking of a reply, anything to say to make his words seem like they've come out of his mouth. "You've turned into quite the poet lately, haven't you?" Your answer should be that no, he hasn't, he's just hurt and confused, numb and afraid, but in turn you're all those things as well, or so he speculates by looking in your eyes. Because he can read people, he can read you, and as much as this has been established, he can't find it in him to speak a word on it. Then again, what's the point in holding anything in if you're going to die one day? The life of a hero is expendable, he's got his rise and fall as number one set in stone, so why should he hold back? He can't bring Izuku back even if he wants to, and he can't possibly stop himself from feeling for you. He remembers finding salvation in holding Izuku down and apologizing. He now finds humility in words that are spoken from his mouth that slip past his consciousness. "I love you- Don't care if it's fucking raining or not- Fuck" There's no time for you to think of a response before he throws a fit; his phone is slammed on the backseat, rocketing to the floor, and the click of his door is heard before he steps out of the car and slams it shut. He's lucky- the rain covers most

of the scream that he let's out and fills the buzzing void in your chest, your head. He said the words first, and your head is pulling you instinctively to your right, just where he was a few moments ago, you want to see if he's facing you, you long to feel your eyes meet his. You manage to collect the only ever courage you have left and push the thought of Izuku away from your mind, click your door open and shoot out of the car. Just like him. Like you're his echo. "Don't say a fucking word" He dismisses your open mouth, as if he can hear your breath clearer than this deafening rain, but you're not having it. "But i- i" "Shut up, as if you know-" "But I feel the same way" You whisper "What" He yells, and you scream at him to get back in the car, so you can talk, clearer. Though when he does, he's burning his eyes on your lips, then your eyes, then he never makes any move towards you, as if everyone and anything is on you. But none of you takes the bigger leap towards each -justified, because there's trembling in your movements and hesitation in your heads. And then your lips meet his. Tenderly, painfully, religiously Your first kiss is cursed by numbing ache, but it feels so right, like the warmest summer evening, or the most hazing bonfire during a cold winter night. Regret can't eat you alive for that one. And Katsuki, even with his lips still pressed against yours knows he will think about this kiss as a sin and a betrayal for far too long, he knows it'll torment him through the darkness of whatever tonight could mean. If only he gets through this night, he'll be fine Tomorrow you'll wake him up with a soft "how'd you sleep'' again and he'll be fine. The void and guilt inside his chest will get filled up with the warmness of being embraced first thing in the morning. Perhaps in time he'll convince himself that Izuku would never mind what's going on between the two of you, if you're meant to be endgame.

iv. depression | 12.07 am

Soft bubbles that smell like carnation and the auburn flicker of the fire that shines on top of a plethora of candles set the atmosphere for this evening. The lack of bright light -being that the whole city has been in a black out for several hours- is gentle to yours and Katsuki's eyes. What should have been matched with some of the artificial warmth the heater next to the bathtub, that should be providing for the two of you. Instead, it's him that keeps the temperature high.

Your muscles hurt and his wounds ache, as always, after a tiring day of hero work. You guess that's your daily nature; after hours and hours of overworking your body and soul, two people like you only get to spend the little time they have together like this. Late at night, curled up against each other, borderline sleeping in a bathtub. You're sure the water has a pinkish red tint to it -somewhere, a wound of his or yours is bleeding more that you'd like to believe is natural.

Katsuki is unbothered to check who's wounds are worse.

For the first time in a while, his mouth isn't dry, or chapped, a killer to his heart, for he can't find the right choice of words to spell to you. He should be fine with having you curled up against his chest, but somewhere along the way he finds it hard to experience the warmth he's trying to emit. And he thinks he finds your response to this unspoken mind trick when he cups your hands with his, checking at your fingers. Not a single prune or puckered line to clasp a non indifferent reaction from the back of his brain.

He's content with the way time seems to have stopped, trapping you in a moment filled with cold granite tiles and blood spoiled water that smells like lavender. In a movement he abandons your hands, watching them float over his. You hum -it's warm and welcoming, as if you're saying you're content too- and rest the back of your head to the crook of his neck.

His only reply is to nuzzle his nose into your neck as well. Placing a tiny kiss to the skin against his lips, tangling his fingers through your wet hair.

Small reassuring acts of

love with nothing special into them help you relax completely into him. "Kinda nice that you can see the stars so bright tonight" If you're looking for a cynical answer, then Katsuki's ever your man. "Of course they'd show when it's pitch black outside. What'd ya expect?" With your eyes glued to the glass ceiling for a long while you wonder, what did you expect really? Words that spiral in your brain are always spoken, leaving you numb and inquiring, searching for an answer in the deepest curves of your brain. When burning your eyes into his will never work, he decides to let his gaze melt holes in the vast of his bathroom windows. The beauty of minimalism leaves him cold and lonely, as if there's facelessness in the black veil of the sky that mimics the inside of his home. He curls into you by pressing you against his chest tighter. You never ask him why his bathroom is built the way it is -with that little corner window in the ceiling, neither does he know what he'd answer to you were you ever in a position to. He doesn't know how to apologize for being who he is, or his that window makes him feel like he used to be assured and secured on what was assigned to him by birth. (His parents’ money, a strong quirk.) He doesn't know how to apologize for still living in traits of his life that could make you feel like he's been everything but fair to Izuku. And all you probably think about, he convinces himself is that It'd be ironic to say that you mind having a view of the stars while having a midnight bath. It's a full moon tonight too -the glowing sky orb floating just above the furthest line of the horizon, illuminating the sky. And you, with your eyes shut by now and facing the glass ceiling, seem like you feel the weight of the moon pulling you in. What Katsuki knows for sure is that you have a terrible migraine that has you frowning horrendously. It's because of the fool moon, you'll say when the blond asks you why you're suffering, it always gives you migraines and he'll sit by you as you're making him his bath, holding your hand while he asks you to join him. He's nothing but a lover of roughness and void, he doesn't know how you're still with him, or how you ever fell for him. He feels slow, like a worn out tire, washed to a shore by the sea. But his hands, calloused and sculpted harshly even only by the -not so many- years of being a pro, aid to your comfort, not in his need to be a hero -more like, in his need to be human, or not feel inadequate, to not feel like his life is a pit of guilt because Izukus is over. And it has been for a long time. And his, is taking turns so abruptly that his gut churns and pleads. Two bulky thumbs run over your eyebrows, smoothing the short coarse hair and soothing the bone, swooning the sore pain away; it feels like custom made heaven, sweet and fluffy, and the water in the bathtub won't get cold, nor will his hands. You're so relaxed into him, bones turned into jelly and skin tingling at his touch. Every circle he's rubbing on your forehead is releasing tension you didn't know you had piled up. The soft splashes of water are merely inaudible when compared to his heartbeat, but you can't feel it. Not yet. It's not tense enough for him to feel like his heart is beating out of his chest. "You any better?" Cold. Brutal. Almost as if his hands belong to someone else, but that's Katsuki for you, or anyone else as a matter. You turn your head to him, wearing a tiny, worn out smile as you lean you mean into him, clashing your lips over his, bumping your nose to his cupid's bow when you're done. Katsuki, you're sure, closes his eyes in a feeling that doesn't seem pleasant and you do the most expected thing -retreat. It hurts; watching you slip away, turn your head to face the stars outside of his window, wiggle your body away from his, to collect your knees and press them against your chest. It's devastating how a small denial to a kiss can harm you in such a way. It's either his fault, or yours. Because somewhere deep inside his head he's convinced

himself he's a rebound. Someone you'll get over when you start getting better. And he's probably convinced himselfhes viewing you in this way, somehow. "You could have at least kissed me back" You whisper, shivering. The water is cold, finally, it was so nice while the warmth washed over your skin. Almost like a lie. "I-" He huffs, buries his head into his wet palms. He can't speak, for if he does, the crack in his voice, the high pitch of it, will snitch on his torment. He tries to shove it away, when he shoots his hands to your direction, trying to pull you into him again. When it doesn't work, you swear you see the corners of his eyes sparkle just a tad. It's alienating, when you've seen him cry and have numerous break downs, more times than you've seen him smile or laugh, you feel like you're foreign to the slight emotion that gathers in his eyes, now forming a pit, never spilling down the harsh lines of his cheeks. The moment a salty streak appears on his skin, you can help but wonder, what would happen if only you could stop your own tears from falling. You can't ask him to talk to you, it's more than obvious. You're deprived of any logical sentence forming mechanism in your brain, knees like jelly, arms heavy as two whole buildings in the verge of collapsing. One word of his and your heart will unleash all the ache that gathers slowly in your throat. "'M not just here cause Izuku died" There you go, not once, but seven times, feeling your heart pierce holes in your body, hanging from his every word, cursing yourself when you grasp his meaning. Wild and unleashed and raw, a plea, an inquiry. A way of masking his insecurity and it's your fault he's feeling this way. "You're not," You start, lost and perplexed "I love y-" But it does down faster than you would have wanted it. You turn your head away from him for a second. With the moon so high, and the city lights non existent, you can distinguish the Taurus constellation, just below the moon, and so very faint. Your throat is tight, your neck is sore, your voice won't come out -you wonder why astrology is right about Taurus controlling the throat- and you don't know how to make him feel good about himself. If only you can show him the constellation he'll be fine, right? Do zodiac constellations make him as excited as they make you? Or is that just a role he's taken upon himself to stick with you? His lips clash with yours, water splashing around you as he shifts, and he hugs you close to him. It's your cue, to close your eyes and move your lips in sync. Its a sullen form of desire, that dangerous one, where you get his lips to bleed from how hard you bite down onto his lip and twist and pull and clash him into you again because you can't get enough. You tell yourselves you have to live for this present, even if the past makes it unbearable. Just when your hearts feel like they'll jump out of your chests and dissolve into the lavender smelling bubbles, this time painting the water in a deep carmine, you clash your chest to his and he feels as if, he's wanted, here and now, even if the feeling won't last for long. And then it's hands that roam bruised skin, fingers than dig into softness or thick muscle, fingernails that dig into scalps painfully, until they draw blood as your teeth clash. It's passion, and only in the way your hips ghost over his, swaying in the water, as he's grunting "see, am kissing you back" and "We'll never be clean at this rate" "I'll massage your head when we're done" You breathe, pulling back for a second, as he sucks a spot on your neck, handling your back just to press your chest to his face. "Fuck, I love yo-" You shush him with your mouth on his, forehead sticking to his when a slit on your nose gets smashed when it scrunches against his cheek. He doesn't have to say it, you don't have to hurt him like this. It almost doesn't matter -the cold- when he pulls you to the edge of the bathtub and buries himself into you, you simply shiver by the way his thumb rubs your clit, thrusting your hips in rhythm to

meet his. And he bites on to your collar bones, eyes teary and heart heavy after he lets you set the pace, occasionally thrashing into your touch, his gut churning more and more as you go. It's only when he takes matters into his own hands -lifting you and pressing your back again the wall, putting out some candles I'm the process- hand on your face to shove some hair away, and legs wrapped securely around him that you both find release. Screaming in agony, crying in what could be mistaken for pain, sticking your foreheads together as your breaths tingle into one hot huff of air that travels up and way from you. You lock eyes with him, just before he lets his body collapse into the water, limbs numb and sore. "Please don't leave too." You whisper, sinking down just behind him, fetching for the shampoo bottle from behind you. He doesn't respond. Instead, he mimics you and rests his head on the crook of your neck, eyeing you backwards, pressing his lips into an upwards line. You're not sure you'll be able to get over this void soon, and you can't help but plead. Later, as you're washing through his hair, you show him the Taurus constellation and his eyes beam like a child's when he says "hey I'm a Taurus" all while tending trying to tend for the bite that he left on your shoulder. He doesn't ask to find the cancer constellation. You don't remember where to find it. The moon is too bright for you to even try.

v. acceptance | 6.59 am

The last rembrand of a star shines in a portrait of purples and oranges. The beautiful afterglow of the previous night, the first ray of sun washes its shine away, almost entirely, before a second can come. To paint the sky in blues, sprinkle the marine shade as to spoil the darkness' leftovers.

The night star, or morning star, tolerates a third, then forth ray of sunlight, and your watery eyes flicker at the scene, your head curling deeper into Katsuki's chest, humming as his hand wraps tighter around you, rubbing frantically over your skin to create some friction. It's only then that you're reminded how beautiful warmth is.

Your ear is cold -after Katsuki's doing while playing with the roots of your hair- and you tuck it under a few strands, instantly noticing the difference in temperature. Katsuki is cold as well, shivering slightly even with the blanket that's wrapped around the two of you. You can't help but wish that you were in bed, curled in a blanket cocoon, sleeping in the most sappy, eerie way.

But spending the night at the beach in early September night's has been a favorite activity of yours for the past few years. Long gone are the July nights spent in agony at the beach in Musutafu, nights that have allowed you to know Katsuki like the back of your hand. You can't take them back, replace them with memories of a happier process of getting to know him. You're not sure he wants to do that too.

He yawns slightly, squishing your head under his elbow to rub his tired eyes, breaking the loudsy inhale to chuckle at your pretend squirming. Avoiding your hair as to not hurt you while scratching the stubble hair on his cheeks -flinching slightly at it- before he moves your hair away from your ear, laughing trumphically at his doing.

"Nooo, I'm cold"

He chuckles again, running the tips of his fingers through your hair and tapping his palm over your ear. "Better now?"

"Katsu!"

You smile into his chest, trying to muffle your giggles, deciding to cook into him further.

His heart might as well burst. He thinks to himself that this is more than something he could have asked for, years of putting the effort in being with you awarding him in moments like this. Moments where he can see Venus shine faintly in the sky, feeling blessed by the planet of love as he places kisses to the top of your head.

I'm times like these, it's hard to look back and remember he used to beat himself over trying to convince himself he was drawn to you only because Izuku died. It feels like there's more behind it. Some karmic pull, some aligned stars, fates arranged in such a way that

you were meant to end up in this moment. Even if none of this is true and he's lost in superstitial bullshit, trying to explain things with something that bears no resemblance to simple logic, he figures there aren't any fresh wounds in his body. Time has flown since the last time he caught himself bathing in his own blood, but he's not reckless any more -neither are you- he doesn't go tormenting himself with wounds that will take long to heal. He can't remember times that have been tougher than this. But he's attached to the warm sand, moist still from the night's angry chill, so much that he slips one hand out of the blanket and sinks it low into the ground. It's so pleasant that he doesn't feel the ground pulling him in, or down. He's got a heart that will withstand his will to get up any time he wants to, and a pair of legs that will at his command, a chest that heaves with breaths while you're showering him with kisses. He won't get to spend an eternity like this, not even as many years as he thinks will be enough for him to enjoy this, but he's figured that there's eternity hinged in every moment, of taking care of yourself before you take care of someone else, so you don't hurt others around you. He's surprised with how much he's changed; he is aware that change is inevitable, through all the compromises that he's had to not condemn, all the soft words he's forced himself to say to you, to himself, to the point he's become softer, mellowed. Knowing he'd never forgive himself if he came to lose you to his grief. "We should get up, I'm sure Mina and Ochaco will be freaking at this point." He chuckles, hiding his tongue in the back of his mouth, as if to fish for a reply. "Kirishima and Denki will-" "Let the fuckers do as they wish, it's my wedding day, I decide when I show up. I can't with this enthusiasm" "Oh my god" You fake gasp, clapping your mouth "this is it? You're not going to marry me? You've lost your spark? Oh me. Oh my, whatever do I do?" You laugh, feeling the vibrations of his chest as he's laughing too, ruffling your hair in the messiest way he can imagine "There, now your hair is unfixable and I get to say it's you who left me at the altar" You burst out in giggles as you're trying to get up -efforts wasted in vain, because he's pulling you back onto him, for a kiss, one that makes your lips feel like cotton candy that slowly melts away, fuzzily yet so watery and with such delicacy. He gets up soon after you, folding the blanket neatly -too neatly- only pausing to take in the moment. Blue blotch after blue blotch is flooding the sky, almost every hint of purple gone, giving in to that warm tangerine light of the early sun. Katsuki sighs and you link your arms around his elbow. Content, happy. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't much of those himself. There's nothing holding him back. And so, he guesses, this is goodbye. The official one. Not melded with an apology, not fueled by regret. It's a silky woven letting go. There are no tears left for him to shed, there's no more trembling to violently shake your body awake at night. There's nothing but good in the memory of Izuku. Not even the subtle wish for him to be here, and happy with you. As the bright, starry light of Venus is outshone by the sun, he places another kid to the top of your head. "I'll see you at 5" "I'm going to be fashionably late" You argue, turning around to wield your hands around his neck and almost linking your lips to his. "Don't you fucking dare" He kisses you "Or what? You'll blow everyone to pieces?" He kisses you again, then again, then once more. "Might as well" And that's Katsuki for you, even in the calmer, softer version of himself. The personification of the twilight hours, even if he's going to bed at 10pm, wiggling his feet under the covers until you join him. He's the only reason you're still sane and you won't ever lose him. He won't lose you, in return.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Investigations (Part 6): Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.8k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation:

"Mommy, you're getting bigger!"

The slapping of Kai's shoes on the wood flooring, his little body rushing toward you with his arms spread wide, is enough to make you forget the emptiness you felt like an ache in your soul.

"Kai, don't say that..."

Ran chastises him, coming through the door with the Paw Patrol bag slung over his suited shoulder.

"It's fine," you reply, squatting down to hold your son close. "He's just a kid." Ran doesn't respond. He just slides the backpack off his shoulder and shuts your apartment door, sitting it on the marble counter before walking around the fixture slowly.

"Packed five changes of clothes," he begins, ticking off his fingers. "Snacks and a water bottle. Some toys. And the books you wanted."

"Thanks," you whisper, unzipping the backpack to check if he made sure the clothes were matching this time.

"Y/n..." You sigh, feeling Ran's fingers slide up your hips and rest on your small bump. "You should really reconsider this. You're going to need help with the baby, and--"

"Ran." You don't face him; you can't look at his sad eyes. They're too convincing... Too alluring. You'd separated for a reason, not because you wanted to play coy. "We need to get through counseling before I can consider anything."

"I miss you." The words are like a siren's call to your heart, and you want to turn around. You want to hold him and kiss him and... But he'd just do the same thing over and over again. His lies would become more convincing, and you'd be in dire straits, all while sleeping next to a lying manipulator.

You decide the heartbreak isn't worth it.

"I'll see you on Sunday evening." Ran gets the hint. His hands slip away from your body and he says a soft "bye, champ" to Kai before walking out of the door.

_____________________________________________________________

You remember the day Ran came to get you like it was yesterday.

Cliche, but true.

He'd stormed into the little home Taiju had allowed you to remain in, his violet eyes blazing with anger and betrayal. Taiju followed behind him, yellow eyes apologetic and maybe even a little guilty.

"I'm sorry, y/n," Taiju whispered, hanging his head. "I--"

"Pack your things." Ran grabbed you by the wrist, yanking you toward the room you'd just emerged from, but you snatched it back, snapping,

"Fuck off."

In a split second, Ran had his hand raised in the air, poised to slap the taste out of your mouth without a second thought. But he stopped himself, remembering where he was. Who he was with. And who you were.

Taiju yanked you behind him in the milliseconds between Ran raising his hand and the thought of slapping you crossing his mind, full of fury.

"You can hit me, but if you hit her..." The threat stood between the two men, holding them apart with the promise of violence beyond your rashest fears.

"I want a divorce," you croaked.

Ran's eyes softened, and his mind flitted from the "I" to the "want" to the "a" and settled on "divorce".

"Y/n, please, I--"

"I want a fucking divorce."

The drive home with Taiju was the longest drive you'd ever endured.

And then you found out... you were pregnant. The timing couldn't have been worse. You only told Taiju - mainly because he would end up being the godfather due to the circumstances - but when you asked for a divorce, you had moved out.

Ran committed to helping pay for your apartment while you looked for a job, but once you found one as an administrative assistant to someone your family knew, you rejected any and all payments. Kai was shared between the two of you without a court order (you got weekends, he got weekdays), and you'd gotten used to living on your own for the first time in over five years.

And Kai... Kai hadn't understood why Mommy wouldn't be with him Monday through Friday. But Ran tried to explain it in soft tones and gentle hand-holding, and somehow it sunk in that Mommy needed to "work" and Daddy would do most of the caretaking while you worked hard for your independence.

But as the weeks passed, signs appeared, and Ran caught on pretty quickly with his methodical calculations and scrutinizing eyes. And when he found out you were pregnant and hadn't told him?

You sat through a half-hour-long, tear-filled speech that emphasized that Ran would be a part of the child's life in any and every way possible. Through that conversation, though, you agreed to marriage counseling. So... maybe it was good that he found out the way he did.

_____________________________________________________________

"Mr. Haitani, do you want this marriage to work for you or against you?"

"What kind of question is that?" Ran scoffs, crossing his arms.

"It's the kind of question that just might save you from being divorced and alone."

You can see Ran soften, uncrossing his arms and leaning his head on his propped-up hand.

"I want it to work."

"And Mrs. Haitani? Same question." When the woman turns to you, you feel something in your own heart crack, and for a moment, you think it's the pregnancy hormones that are making you cry. But you shake your head at yourself, wiping your eyes preemptively.

"I want it to work. For us. I don't want Kai to be without a father." A pause. "And I don't want to be without my husband." You don't see how Ran reacts because you're too busy sobbing into your own hands, feeling every single emotion you've held at bay come crashing down on you. But the large couch dips, and Ran places his arm around you, enveloping you in a hug as you weep.

"Then we need to rebuild trust before we can get to true reconciliation. Can I recommend something?"

"Please," Ran replies.

"Spend this evening just being honest with each other. Nothing distracting you two, just the two of you and your truth. Mr. Haitani, you need to be open enough to be honest and give her the answers to any questions she might have. And Mrs. Haitani, you need to do the same."

_____________________________________________________________

You're sitting between Ran's legs, staring at the crackling fire while he rests his large hands on your knees.

"Ask me anything."

The floor is open. The first question that comes to mind is:

"How long have you been in gangs?"

"Since I was thirteen." Seventeen years... This is a way of life for Ran.

"You've killed a man before." A statement, not a question.

"Many. But never for fun." You turn to look at him, and Ran looks down at you, raising his brows. "Never. And very rarely these days." South.

"Did you ever think about leaving?"

"All the time. The first time was when you and I got married. Then when we had Kai... then when you found out."

"And what's stopping you?" Ran thinks long and hard.

"It wouldn't make you trust me any more than you do now." You nod, quirking your lips to the left. That is true. "But also... I want to provide for both of you. I can't leave without some consequences. And we'd never be safe. But I can provide safety for us if I'm in power."

That is also true.

"Can I ask a question?" Ran whispers.

"Of course."

"Do you really want to divorce me?" You stare at the flames again, the answer very clear for the both of you. You just have to say it out loud.

"No." Ran sighs, dropping his head on your shoulder.

"I can't be without you." You lean your head on his and close your eyes, letting his lips press against your skin. "Please, come home."

"When we finish counseling," you promise. "I'll come home."

"Can you stay with me tonight, though?" You hesitate, but Ran cups your neck in his hand, whispering "please" into your skin and you give in. What good is it to fight the thing you want? To fight the man you need?

You kiss Ran with everything that you are, turning around to embrace him gently. You run your hands through his hair, tugging the short locks slightly as he lifts you onto his lap and kisses you deeply.

"Never leave me again," Ran pants, running his hands up your back. "Please. I felt like I could barely breathe without you."

"Never break my trust again," you reply, and Ran hums softly, littering kisses all over your face. "And I won't ever leave you."

Your lovemaking is slow and thoughtful in front of the fire, Ran's hands holding your hips with feather-light touches, and swiping your hair away from your face whenever he can't see your eyes staring back at him. It's this type of sex that Ran seems to take the most pleasure in... the closeness, the sweetness, the passion... it's all wrapped up in his soul, and he's pouring it out to you without words.

"I want you to be happy here," Ran grunts, stroking your g-spot with his skilled length and kissing the swell of your breasts at the same time. "With me."

You moan, and Ran opens his mouth to speak again.

"And I want you to be safe." He pauses, swirling a nipple around with his tongue. "And warm..." Ran's hands move from your hips to your face, and he leans down to brush his nose against yours. "And mine."

"You're all that I am," you breathe, and Ran's eyes light up, remembering the part of your vows you had said on your wedding day, which were completely unscripted.

"And you are all that I will be." His reply makes you arch your back upward, and you shake as he brings you to your climax, stroking all of the right spots and tending to your every need.

"R-Ran..."

"Shhh... Kai's sleeping. Don't want to wake him, do you?" Ran teases as your body clenches around his cock. "Gotta be quiet or-- fuck, fuck... Oh, my god..." Ran shudders, cumming inside of you with stuttering hips and fingers gripping your hands in his. When you both slow your pants and come down from your highs, Ran pulls you up and onto his body, leaning back onto the soft, plush carpet - and still inside of you.

You both stare into the fire, tangled and merged with one another by a red thread.

"I can't let go of you," Ran murmurs, and you look up at him in question. A tear tracks from the corner of his eye, and you swipe at it, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"You don't have to." You lay back down on his chest, trying to remain awake and relish this time with him, but you feel yourself slipping, falling, crashing into a deep sleep, one you've needed for a long time.

[arizona2004]

Hey can you please do a azriel x reader where the reader is struggling with bad mental health (maybe an Ed) because I’m struggling myself rn and alsao there’s not enough of them :). I can totally understand if you didn’t feel comfortable doing it

Okay, here it is. Everyone responds to their eating disorders differently, especially depending on the ED and severity of it. I hope this has what you’re looking for, though.

Azriel x reader

Word count: 1499

Warnings: Eating Disorders! The reader struggles with an ED and some depression and anxiety and a little OCD. Please don’t read if you think reading the unhealthy thoughts of someone with an eating disorder may cause you to relapse. It is not healthy to think about food and eating in this manner. Love you all. Don’t forget to eat something and drink some water.

Waking up, I immediately don’t want to get out of bed. I pull the covers over my head, keep my eyes closed, and scrunch my legs up to my chest. When I wake up again, it’s only a little later in the morning. I still don’t want to pull myself out of bed, but I can’t fall back asleep. So I just lay there. Turning to Azriel’s side of the bed, I notice he’s not there. Well, of course not; he’s already left for work. I stare at the spot he usually occupies before finally sitting up and checking the clock. It’s 10 am.

Standing, I wrap my robe around myself and walk out of the room, refusing to look in the mirror. I practice breathing evenly and focus on my routine. I need to eat breakfast. I spend nearly 20 minutes in the kitchen, moving around, deciding what to eat. I’m opening cabinets and closing them, finding nothing satisfactory. Eventually, I decide to make some bacon. The stove is on, and bacon is sizzling. The scent of bacon is wafting toward me, and I feel like being sick. I can’t eat bacon; it’s greasy and fatty. Toast, I think, I’ll make toast. So I put the bread in the toaster and let it cook. It’s only when the toast is cooked that I start thinking about the carbs that go into it. I haven’t been exercising enough recently. I shouldn’t eat so many carbs. I throw the toast out with the bacon and decide to make scrambled eggs instead. Whisking the eggs and milk together, I turn on the stove, letting the skillet heat and butter melt on it. When I turn, bowl in hand, ready to pour it into the skillet, it slips from my hand, spilling all over the floor. Anger and frustration wash over me; I guess I just shouldn’t eat this morning.

After cleaning the mess: doing the dishes that littered the sink and picking up the mess of eggs on the floor, I walk back up to my room. My head is pounding, and everything feels like it's crashing in on me. My heart is racing, and I just want to scream. My mind keeps flashing back to last night. We went out to Ritas, and it was supposed to be fun. But I just had to ruin things for myself. I barely ate. I stopped drinking early into the night. I wish I could have forgone the entire night. I wish Mor wasn’t so perfect. She has curves in all the right places and not a single flaw; I hate her for it, I think. Passing the floor-length mirror in my bedroom, I stop to look at myself. It’s been so long since I’ve looked in the mirror and liked what I saw. Why can't I have a body like Mor or Feyre or Amren?

I sit on the floor, just picking apart all the pieces of myself I hate. Thinking about all the insulting things people have said to me. Tears are streaming out of my eyes until I can’t even see my reflection. I’m clutching my chest as I struggle for air through my sobs. Why? Why? Why?

It’s an hour later, and I’m just lying on the floor of my bedroom, staring at the ceiling. I pushed my earlier hunger away, so I can’t feel it anymore. I wish I couldn’t feel any of it. The tears on my face have dried, and I’m breathing normally again when a small piece of folded paper falls next to me.

The Note reads: Meet me at my office at 11:30?

Azriel. I turn my head to look at the clock hanging on the wall. It’s nearly 11:20: a choked sob leaves my throat. Standing quickly, I rush to the bathroom to put myself together. In 10 minutes, my face is washed, and I’m wearing enough makeup to cover any signs of my tears. And I brushed through my hair and threw on some clothes. Rushing out the door, I head for the House of Wind. In the time it took to get to the door of his office, I’ve done breathing exercises to even out my breaths and slipped on a smile.

Knocking on the door to his office, I peeked my head in. “Hey,” I say, biting my lip.

He looked up to me, a grin spreading across his face and arms opening for me. I walked in, shutting the door behind me, and sat on his lap. He wrapped his arms around me, resting his head on my shoulder. He breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of me. “You smell wonderful, love,” he murmurs against my neck.

“Hmm,” I hum, holding him tight.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks, pulling back slightly to look at me directly.

“Yeah,” An unconscious fake smile blooms across my face, “why wouldn’t I be?”

He just stares at me for a moment longer, eyebrows bunching, when he asks, “have you eaten today?”

“Yes. Breakfast this morning,” I say, “when I woke to an empty bed,” I try steering the question away from myself.

He knows I’m lying, “are you hungry? We could get lunch.”

“It was a big breakfast, Az,” I say, “I’m not hungry right now.”

He grips my waist and pulls me closer, wrapping his wings around us, “What’d you eat?”

“I made toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon,” It’s not entirely a lie, I think to myself.

He puts his forehead on my shoulder, resting it there for a long few moments, “baby,” he mumbles, “please don’t lie to me. We’ve been through this before: I can help, just talk to me.”

My lips start to quiver, I’ve upset him.

“I’m with you through all the good And the bad,” he says, head still down, “please tell me the truth about how you’re feeling,” he lifts his head to look at me, and the worrying features of his face make me sob again. “Hey, hey. It’s okay,” he consoles, wiping the tears from my face, “deep breaths.”

I take a deep breath in and out, and he does it with me. My tears start to slow, and the shuddering breaths even out. Az is running his hand up and down my spine, soothingly and when I’m ready, I explain everything, “I guess- things started getting bad yesterday. I didn’t really like the way I looked in that dress, and I just felt… off? Gross? I don’t know,” I take another breath in, “then Mor showed up, and she just looked so good in that dress; she’s so beautiful. And she ate and drank so much,” I’m ranting now, “Does she ever gain weight?!” I stop talking, trying to calm myself, and tears well up again, but I push them back. Looking back to Az, I start talking again, “I shouldn’t be jealous. I’m a horrible friend for being mad at her, but I just can’t stand her sometimes. I’m a horrible friend.”

I’m looking down between us now, but Az coaxes me back, “look at me,” he holds my face between his hands and pushes our foreheads together, “You are not a horrible friend. You are wonderful and kind. It’s okay to be jealous. You still love her, and you’re still a good friend. Now, tell me the rest.”

I shake my head holding back my tears, “It’s just the same thing. I just- it’s everything combined. I feel like I ate too much yesterday, and I haven’t worked out regularly this week. Then everything last night. So when I woke up this morning, everything was too much. Seeing myself in the mirror and thinking about how much I don’t deserve you. I’m not pretty enough. It’s all just so much. All at once,” my breaths come unevenly again, and tears are running down my face.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment; his hands drop from my face and pull me into him. His hands run through my hair, and he just soothes me quietly for a few minutes. When he pulls back to look at me, he says quietly and calmly, “You’re beautiful, love. And I know me telling you that isn’t just gonna take all the bad thoughts and feelings away, but I need you to know: No matter what you see in the mirror or what your mind tells you, you are so beautiful. You have your ‘flaws,’ but that’s okay. You just have to learn to love them the way I do. And I’ll help you with that; I’m here to help.”

I nod, tears still streaming down my face, and lay my head on his shoulder, breathing him in and calming myself.

“Can we go eat food now,” he asks quietly. I nod letting myself feel the hunger I pushed aside and relaxed further into his arms. He lifts me with him as he stands and walks us to the kitchen.

[qtsickchiq]

SOMEBODY TO YOU

with Ken Ryuuguji

To lose someone he love is to tear his world apart. Losing someone is like losing hope of having a sane life, when he’s standing at the edge of sanity. It is like walking up to the stairs to his bedroom in the dark and thinking that there is one more stair than there is. His foots falls down, through the air, and there’s a sickly moment of dark surprise as he try and readjust the way he thought of things. He tries to pull himself together but the cuts stay fresh forever.

“It has been 12 years….”

“It is alright, Draken. You can cry I’m right here. Always here for you.” You whisper, taking a seat beside him.

“It has been 12 years since Emma’s death.” Draken swallows the lump in his throat, looking up at the night sky.

“I know.”

You met Ryuguji Ken during your middle school years. It was the first day on your new school when you accidentally bumped into the tall blonde man who was walking at the hallway with his short friend.

“Watch out where you’re going.”

“I’m sorry.” You whine as you rub the back of your neck nervously, eyebrows pulled together in a clear show of apology.

“It’s fine. Are you alright though?” He asked concern in his eyes as he stared at you.

You still remember the moment as if it was yesterday. Ever since that day, you would greet him every time you bump into him, giving him a smile and a wave. It didn’t take long for you to start hanging out with him and Mikey. You stay friend with him throughout the years. Honestly, you have been in love with him ever since you met him but a thought of confessing to him never crossed your mind. He loves Emma and Emma loves him. Draken only see you as his friend and not more than that. You respect that hence the reason you push away the thought of confessing your feeling to him.

You were there with him after Emma’s funeral, comforting him and letting him your shoulders to cry on. When Mikey left him, you were there to pick him up and snap him out of his dissociation. You’ve always been with him throughout these years. Draken always show his smile and his strong personality when he’s with his friends. But you could see past that, you could see a lot of pain behind his eyes, and notice the brokenness in his smile. You have seen him crying countless time and you don’t mind it. He has no one left and he needs you. It’s too hard for him to bear the pain of losing someone he love. You would accompany him to visit Emma’s grave anytime he needs. Whenever he needs a shoulder to cry on, with only one call away and you’re already there with him.

Draken has tried to do so many things in order for him to move on with life. He has met several women in his life and numerous one night stands but it seems like all of them doesn’t work very well with him. You tried your best to be there for him when he needs you. You would stop by his bike shop to pass him lunches. You are so used to accidentally interrupted Draken with his make out sessions with any random woman at the bike shop.

“Hey Draken, I got your favouri- HEY what the hell?” You quickly turn away closing your eyes with both of your hands. Your face turns bright red from seeing the scene before you.

“Ah Y/n, Just put them on the table there.” He smirks, waving his hand to the woman earlier signing her to leave, while readjusting his collar. You only able nod and smile to the woman as you see her leaving the shop in a hurry. That must be awkward as hell.

It breaks your heart too. No matter how hard you tried to be strong for him, you’re human too and human has feelings. You wish for him to open up to you and give you a chance to be yours. But you quickly push your thoughts away. Who are you again? Yes, you’re his friend. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable with you. You can’t bear losing him in your life. He’s your best friend. Draken has always been there with you from graduating school and to where you are standing now. You can’t imagine a day without seeing him. It’s better this way right? Right?

You are snuggling under your comforter with your hands busy pressing the buttons on the controller of your video game. Suddenly, you phone start ringing. You glance to the device next to you to see who the caller is only to see it was Inui. ‘It must be something related to Draken’ you thought to yourself.

Your brows are knitted upwards in the centre, concern written all over your face as you press the answer button, “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, Draken is drunk. He keeps on mentioning your name. Sorry but would you mind coming over here and pick him up?” You could hear the loud music booming from the other line. You waste no time as you hurriedly slips on your jacket and ran towards the bar they are having drinks at.

“Oh y/n~ my… hic… my favourite person…is here.” Draken grin widely when he sees you running towards him with Chifuyu and Mitsuya holding him side by side. You catch him in your arms before he stumbles forward.

“I’m so sorry about this.” You bow your head to the men in front of you.

“Please don’t bother about this. We were the one who insisted him to drink tonight.” Mitsuya chuckles as he helps you to drag Draken away from the bar.

The moment he blinks your eyes he’s already in your bedroom. A frown on his lips and brows furrowed. “Y/n, what happened?” He sat up in the bed and look around, with his hand rubbing his head to ease the throbbing in his temples

“You passed out so the boys have to drag you here.” You passed him a glass of water. “You look horrible.” Only worry remains on your face. You reach up a hand to caress his face.

He took a sip of the drink. He let out a heavy sigh. “I see Emma.” He mumbles rubbing his forehead. Your eyes are wide open. “I thought you were Emma.”

Your heart reacts before your brain can fully process his words. You almost feel your heart drop. You can feel your eyes are filling with tears, your lower lip trembles. God, give me strength to bear this. I’m human too. You pray to yourself.

Draken flinch when he saw you tearing up, “Shit- what’s wrong y/n?”

“Why is it always her?” You mumble under your breath, your fist tighten around your dress.

Draken turn his head to face you. He raises a brow, trying to catch the things you were saying. “What are you talking about?” He stops, eyes wide staring at you.

“Draken, have you ever thought of me in your heart?” You whimpered, tears start rolling down on your cheeks. Fuck what am I saying?

“What the-” his sentence is being cut off when you suddenly push you lips to his.

You took a deep breath as you hold his face in your hands. “I love you Draken, I love you so much.”

“Wait- I can’t.” His troubled gaze came back to your face.

“Emma is gone. You deserve happiness too. Why are you doing this to yourself?” You brush your knuckle under the redness of his swollen eyes. “Please look at me too. Let me be in your heart too.” You pulled him closer in your arms, burying your face in his chest. “All I want to be is somebody to you.”

Draken gently push you away. “I’m sorry.” He gets up from you bed heading straight the door without even glancing back to you. The moment he leaves, you stare blankly at the wall. You began to cry, you sob muffled as you leaned forward against your arms, hugging your knees. “Why did I do that?” you murmur to yourself. Draken let out a heavy sigh as he plops down in front of your house door. “Shit” he curses while ruffling his hair, hands slightly trembling. He loves you too, but he can’t do that fearing that he’ll lose you too. He had enough. Everyone he ever loved ended up hurt or dead.

How many days has it been now since he last saw you? He lost count already. He sighs as he put down the wrench he’s holding and staring straight at the bike in front him. You haven’t come to see him at all since that day, he missed you. Of course, there’s no way you would come and see him now. He hurts you.

A voice greets him from behind, “Hey.” He turns his head to see Mitsuya standing there.

“Oh Mitsuya, what’s up man?” He gets up from his position, wiping the dirt on his hands with a towel.

“I was talking to you just now but it seems like you’re busy in your own thought.” Mitsuya give a curious stare at him, brows knitted together before a grin emerged on his face

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t hear you earlier.” Draken shrugs, running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s fine, anyway are you okay? Inui told me that you have been staring a lot lately.” His brows creased in worry. He pulls one of the chairs at the workshop as he sits crossing his legs facing Draken.

Draken takes a seat beside the lilac hair man. Letting out a heavy sigh as he continues telling Mitsuya the whole shits that has been going through his mind. Mitsuya is focusing himself with the whole story, sometimes his lips part open from the story. “And she has been ignoring me now. It’s my fault anyway.”

A scowl appeared on Mitsuya’s face, “You mean that all these years she-”

“Yeah.” Draken bows his head, staring down. It was as if his head was heavier than usual.

Mitsuya places a hand on his shoulder, “She love you deeply man.” He raises a brow, clicking his tongue. “Man, I have to tell you this. You deserve happiness too.” Draken lifts up his head, his gaze met Mitsuya’s. “I believe Emma thought the same way too.” Mitsuya grins as he continues, “It’s never too late.”

Draken tried calling your number but only your voicemails greet him. “Shit y/n I’m so sorry, please pick up the phone, I need to talk to you.” He sighs wishing that you would hear his voicemails. It’s fine if you hate him, but he needs one more chance to tell you everything, just one more chance. After that, he’s fine if you decided to leave him. It’s his fault anyway. He can’t help but to pace back and forth, biting his lips. He wastes no time as he grabs his motorcycle keys.  

You are walking down from the train station, on your way home from your office. You sigh as you check your phone looking at the amount of missed calls and voicemails coming from him. It has been days since you last saw him. You missed him too, but you were too ashamed to show yourself in front of him after what you’ve done. You accidentally confessed to him out of nowhere and what even worse is, you forced your kiss to him. AAAAAAA you scream to yourself as you slaps both of your cheeks hard making the other people at the station staring at you with a confuse look. There is a mother pulling her daughter closer to avoid you. You rubs you red cheeks as you huff your cheeks and lips forming a pout. You can’t face him now. “I would rather dig my own grave rather than seeing him now.” You mumble to yourself.

“Found you.” You have never ever turned you head as quickly as this time. You can hear a snap from your neck. Ouch.  There he is landing his back on his bike behind you with a smirk on his face. God, why are you doing this to me? Am I not being nice in my life? Is this the punishment I deserve after what I’ve done?

Your brows knitted together, “How- how did you-” You point your finger to him, trembling as he walks towards you with hands in both of his pockets.

“I can hear your screaming from there. Why are you acting like you are seeing a ghost?”

You quickly turn your body and decided to run for your life, with your heels? Yes with your freaking heels. But before you are able to sprint away from him, you can feel his big hand holding you waist gently pulling you closer to him.

“I’m so sorry! I’m sorry, please let me go!” You scream, trying to push away his grip from you.

A deep furrow ran across his forehead, gaze trailing down to you. “What the fuck are you saying?” He is damn confused now.

You place your suitcase on top of your face, in hoping to shield your bright red face from his stares. “I didn’t mean to say that. Please forget everything I’ve said before.”

“What- I’m glad you said that.” He lets out chuckles as he pushes away your suitcase from your face. He rubs your red cheeks gently, “I’m sorry for hurting you before.” You narrowed your brows at him. He pulls your face gently to his, “It’s not like I hate you anything. It’s just that I feel like I don’t deserve anyone in my life.” He sighs. “I love you too, but I still think of Emma sometimes and I’m sorry.”

“I’ll wait for you. You don’t have to feel sorry. Take as long time you need.” He freezes. You took a deep breath. “I mean after all I’ve been waiting for years already.” You whisper as you look down at your feet while twiddling with your own fingers. He arched a brown in amusement and let out giggles as he stares at you.

“I know and I’m sorry.” You can feel his fingers sliding down to your hair, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ears. “But, you’re indeed special to me and I can’t bear to lose someone in my life again. You have been a wonderful girl to me ever since the time that I have known you.” He continued as his intense gaze fixed on you. The you he now loves, the you who is always there for him and the you he promises himself to protect. “You are the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.” You can feel the tears start to fall down on your warm cheeks. His arm is sneaking around you waist gently to hold you closer to him “That’s my reply to your confession that night.” His lips slowly curving up into a smile as his warm lips brushed your forehead, peppering it with kisses.

“I love you, Draken.” You began to cry, you sob muffled in his chest.

“I know.”

“But, I love- I love you so much.”

He lands his forehead to yours and gently wipes away your tears with his fingers. “I know. I love you too.”

yours truly @qtsickchiq​​

[thefanficmonster]

Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great. 

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point. 

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time. 

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from. 

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about. 

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.” 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[mercy-burning]

Out Of Commission

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After being severely injured on a case, Reader needs to take it easy, and she finds a creative way for Spencer to make her feel better. Category: Smut 18+ (male masturbation, dirty talk - mentions of fingering, penetrative sex, overstimulation and multiple orgasms) Warnings: Sex, language, brief mentions of injury (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 1.9k (she’s a short one, but hella spicy, so I hope that makes up for it lol)

***EDITED: 7/25/2021***

PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST 

***

The first week was okay. She was resting and taking it easy, as she should, but by the second week of sitting in bed or on the couch, with extra coddling from her boyfriend and her family and her friends, Y/N was growing restless.

It's not like she didn't enjoy or appreciate the constant affection and nice gestures from Spencer in particular, but she wanted something different, something she knew he would refuse in fear of tearing her stitches or irritating her wounds.

Why did serial killers have to be so goddamn inconvenient?

It didn't help that Spencer was at her house almost every night. He'd offered to take the couch a few times, but Y/N dumbly insisted he stay in her bed with her, hoping his presence would bring her comfort. And to some degree it did, of course, but more often than not Y/N found herself wanting nothing more than to wrap herself up in him and kiss him until they both fell asleep. And sometimes that did happen, though Spencer was careful to watch where he placed his hands, pulling his body away from hers almost completely at times so he wouldn't hurt her or make her uncomfortable.

Even though it was obvious to the two of them that they both wanted more, it was just too dangerous, and Y/N needed to heal properly.

One night she was sitting in bed, watching a movie she'd already seen about twenty times, about ready to turn it off when Spencer walked in, a bag of Red Vines in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"I thought you might want a snack," he said with a smile as he brought them over, leaning down and giving her a chaste kiss on the forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N turned off the TV and shrugged. She opened the water bottle as Spencer climbed into bed next to her. He remained on top of the covers, leaning his back against the headboard and turning his head to look at her.

"I'm alright," she answered after taking a drink of water. "Nothing hurts. I'm just bored."

He placed a hand on her knee over the comforter and snuggled just a little closer. "If anything starts to hurt, let me know. I'll get you your medicine."

Y/N smiled up at her boyfriend and leaned forward to kiss him, saying, "thank you," before their lips met. It was a small, sweet kiss, but after they pulled away, Y/N went in for another, bringing her hand up to lightly brush Spencer's cheek. He kissed her back softly, his hand massaging her knee with the same tenderness.

She slipped her tongue into his mouth carefully when their lips parted, and his hand squeezed her knee a little harder. But he didn't pull away, so she took that as a good sign. She could feel herself getting more excited as his hand slipped up her leg through the comforter to grip her thigh, so she sighed into his mouth and brought her hand down to run over his torso, using her nails to lightly scratch him through his shirt.

His grip on her thigh tightened when she slipped her hand under the tee shirt, bringing it around his waist to pull him closer to her.

"Wait, Y/N," Spencer said, pulling away from her completely. She pouted when she looked at him and he looked just as disappointed as she was. "We... We can't. You're not healed properly, and it's not safe right now. We should stop."

Not completely willing to give up yet, she leaned her head down onto his shoulder, snuggling up to him and pressing a kiss to his neck as she guided his hand to his lap. Right over the bulge she knew would already be forming.

"Well... Just because I'm out of commission doesn't mean you have to be... Don't you want to feel good?"

She gripped his hand tighter and ran it over his dick through the fabric of his sweatpants. "How long has it been since you touched yourself, hmm?" she whispered into his ear, taking it softly between her teeth for a moment as she continued to guide his hand.

Spencer's breathing picked up and he shifted a little. She could feel him swallow before answering. "Um... A-about a month? And a half?"

"So... not once since I've been injured? Baby..." She made it a point to sound as sorry as she could, continuing to kiss his neck and leave little licks and bites that would surely leave marks. "I know I can't really physically help you, but... What if I kept talking? Hmm? Would you like that?"

She felt his breath hitch when her hand left his and grabbed his chin to face her. She could see in his eyes how badly he wanted to take control. But she was, in fact, out of commission, and no matter how much they both wanted it, this was the next best thing.

Y/N ran her thumb along his lower lip as she softly bit her own, her eyes completely lost in his. "Let me help you feel good, baby... Please..."

Once she pulled out the begging, he was done for. And they both knew it.

Spencer gave in, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand as he shifted, lifting his hips off the bed to slide down his pants and underwear just enough to pull out his dick. Y/N smiled and started kissing his neck again, using one of her hands to gently graze her fingernails up and down his stomach and chest under his shirt.

She watched intently as his hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb occasionally swiping over the tip and smearing precum over it. "Mmm, I missed seeing your cock, baby," she spoke softly into his neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to it every so often in between words. "I love watching how good you work it... So nice and slow... And your hand... God, it's so hot seeing you use your hands..."

Spencer let out a small whine as Y/N started sucking on his neck, her hand paying careful attention to his nipples under his shirt. His hand moved a little faster, and she smiled against him.

"Tell me... If you could fuck me right now, what would you do to me?" she whispered in his ear, using her unoccupied hand to play and tug at his hair as she watched him jerk off.

He didn't answer for a few moments, concentrating on working his dick and being caught up in the way she felt him up, his breathing a little ragged.

"Hmm?" she pressed, tugging harder on his hair, and he whimpered.

"I... I'd want to take you f-from behind," he choked out honestly, squeezing his eyes shut as he continued his ministrations.

Y/N laughed softly, kissing his jawline. "Mmm, I love when you fuck me from behind... Especially over the counter. I love feeling your pretty fingers dig into my hips as you just pound me into the cold marble..."

His noises got a little louder as she kissed down his throat and neck, moaning into his skin as she did so. "Fuck, I miss having your cock inside me, baby... I miss it so much, you always know how to fuck me so good..."

At this point she was absolutely worked up, her pussy clenching around nothing as she slowly laid out these filthy images for her boyfriend. It was frustrating to say the least, knowing she couldn't do anything about it without potentially hurting herself. She thought about slipping a hand under the covers and masturbating with him, but truthfully she wasn't sure how it would affect her healing. Even sitting up this long, her torso slightly twisted so she could lean into Spencer's body and help him out was starting to take its toll.

So, she tried her hardest to ignore what her lower half was feeling and laser all her attention onto her boyfriend, who was dangerously close to finding release. She watched as his hand moved, lost in the soft, wet sounds of his quick movements mixing beautifully with his whines and moans. "Y/N, I... Fuck," he breathed, leaning his head back against the headboard.

She nodded, softly rubbing her thighs together as she kissed his neck and watched his hand. "I know, baby... What do you want, hmm? The first thing you want to do to me as soon as I'm all better..."

"I... I want... I want to finger you... I wanna feel your legs clench around my hand while I finger you from behind."

Y/N let out a breathy laugh against his neck, licking and sucking at it again. "Mmm, you would like that, wouldn't you? To feel me cum on your fingers? Shaking around them while I yell out your name?"

"Fuck, Y/N, yes," he managed through a moan.

She hummed into his skin, noticing how heavy his breathing was getting. Since he was close, she put extra performance into her words, taking the time to say each one slowly, and with just the right amount of softness and innocence in her tone.

"And then, even after you've made me cum, I'd bet you'd love to keep fucking me... Only this time you'd want to see my face, because you'd love to make me cry from fucking me so hard... You'd love seeing mascara run down my face, hearing how whiny I am, begging you to stop because it's too much..."

Spencer leaned the side of his head against hers as his breathing picked up. "Shit," he breathed, his voice shaky.

"And you'd love to wipe the tears from my face as you fuck me even harder, telling me to take it like a good girl..."

That was all it took for him to finally finish. Y/N was prepared, lifting up his shirt so that he could cum mostly on his stomach. She moaned right along with him, using her other hand to stroke his jaw as he came. She watched with wonder and adoration as the thick, white substance landed in perfect splatters all over his stomach.

His hand slowed to a stop once he was finished, and Y/N pressed a soft, sensual kiss to jaw, right before turning his face to meet hers. He kissed her lazily, their tongues both colliding with soft strokes that grew heavier on Y/N's part until Spencer pulled away.

She whined at the loss of contact, and he laughed softly. "You didn't really think this through, did you?"

"Uh-uh," she replied with another whine, burying her face in his shoulder.

He laughed again and kissed the top of her head. She still held his shirt up to his chest so it wouldn't get messy, so he sat up off the headboard a little and pulled it all the way off, tossing it to the floor. "I gotta get cleaned up. Maybe when I'm done we should get you into a cold shower."

She stuck her tongue out at him before an idea struck her. Spencer was about to get up, but she grabbed his arm. "Wait. Let me help."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't stop her when she brought her fingers to his stomach, scooping up some of his cum and bringing it to her lips, smearing it there for a moment before cleaning it all off. She looked him in the eye the entire time, though that clearly gave away how frustrated she still was that she couldn't get herself off.

"That didn't help you at all, did it?" Spencer mused.

Y/N pouted. "No..."

He kissed her on the head again before getting out of bed. "I'm gonna go run you a shower, okay? How cold do you want it?"

"Very cold."